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Part I. 

60 cents. 




; Let all the ends thou aimst at be thy country's, 
Thy God's, and truth's." — Shakspeare. 

vtfUBUs . 



Sent Postpaid on Receipt of Price. 


258 North 22nd Street 

Richmond, Indiana 





- J^^ 

19th Infantry, 
Born In Indiana, 
To Be Dissolved 

WASHINGTON. — The second 
battle group of the 19th infantry, 
organized at Indianapolis, Ind., 
July 9, 1861, for the Civil war, 
will be deactivated this month, the 
army announced Tuesday. Now 
stationed in Hawaii, the Hoosier- 
born groups campaign streamers 
include the Civil war, Indian wars, 
Spanish war, Philippine insurrec- 
tion, World War 2 and Korea. 

Breakup of the group was made 
necessary by the over-all army re- 
duction to become effective by 
June 30. Its personnel will be ab- 
sorbed by other units of the 25th 
division of which the 19th infantry 
regiment is a part. The division 
fought in the Pacific in World War 

In another service announce- 
ment Tuesday, the Marine corps 
said that about 7,000 enlisted ma- 
rines, due for discharge in April, 
May and June; will be offered ear- 
ly release in an effort to reduce 


258 North 22nd Street 

Richmond, Indiana 


J Ixecutive Committ< Gov- 

mors" Confen wanted to 

is with them his pn 
sion of unemployment cona- 
tion payments. 
Eisenhower told the annual Re- 
publican Women's Conference he 
3 flatly opposed to what he 
ailed the "make-work approach 
vith it? vast, slow-moving proj- 
ects" because he feels it might 
'turn a recession into a long-terra 
iConomic headache." 

^rmy To Award 
>100 Million In 
Truck Contracts 

WASHINGTON iff> — Tlie Armv 
nnounced today it will award 100 
lillion dollars worth of contracts 
>r trucks and trailers within the 
ext 30 days. 

aid the move is designed to 
lcrease employment in the auto- 
iotive industry and give the 
rmy critically needed equipment. 
ly all of the work will be 
laced in the state* ol Illinois. In- 
tana, Michigan, Ohio and Penn- 

Thg annnnnpomant l icrarl «1-,^ 





" Let all tbe ends thou aimst at be thy country's, 
Thy God's, and truth's." — Shakspeare. 

****** * +, 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 

Merrill and Company, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Indiana. 



ittotljcrs, ttHocs, axib Sisters 

or THE 




Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2011 with funding from 

The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant 


On July 10 th, 1862, we issued a circular, which was mailed 
to the officers of every Indiana regiment, soliciting such in- 
formation as would enable us to prepare a complete record of 
the part taken by our State in the suppression of the Rebellion. 
In addition to a full narration, we proposed to give the names of 
all Indianians who had fallen in their country's service, if not 
of all who had enrolled themselves in her armies. We expected 
to commence the issue of our work as early as September, 1862. 

Circumstances, however, delayed publication until the present 
time, and also compelled a modification of our plan, especially 
in regard to the catalogue of names. The men of Indiana 
must blame their own patriotism, so promptly, largely, and glo- 
riously displayed that it would require the compass of an ency- 
clopaedia to contain individual names. 

In the prosecution of our work, we have had -serious diffi- 
culties to encounter. Sometimes it has been next to impossible 
to decide between contradictory, or to reconcile incongruous 
statements. Sometimes we have been unable to obtain par- 
ticulars of some interesting event. And sometimes, again, while 
we have had full and clear accounts of the part one regiment 
has taken in an action, we have had very slight information in 
regard to the equally important part borne in the same action 
by another. 

These difficulties continue, and perhaps will continue through- 
out our work. 

While we cannot deprecate all criticism without throwing 
aside all claim to merit, we yet, in view of the difficulties and 


obstacles with which we have had to contend, and in view of 
our earnest and honest desire to do justice to patriot and 
traitor, ask the indulgence of soldier and civilian. 

We owe our thanks to the many who have aided us with 
information : to the soldiers who have allowed their letters to 
be at our service ; to the editor of the " Indianapolis Daily 
Journal,'' for files of that paper; to Mrs. Judge Orth, for the 
use of her valuable scrap-books ; to Mr. Davies, of Rensselaer ; 
to Lieutenant E. E. Bassett, some of whose pages, though not 
prepared for publication, we have embodied in the sketch of 
the Bracken Rangers ; and to Dr. Fletcher, whose private papers, 
written for the information and entertainment of his own family, 
we have freely used, a little perhaps to his surprise, but we 
trust to the gratification of the public. Others, too numerous 
to mention, have given us valuable assistance. 

With these words we give to the public this venture. 
Though it might seem immodest, perhaps ungenerous, to claim 
that our State, whose sons have fought beside the sons of all 
her loyal sisters, encircling the Rebellion with her regiments, 
is prima, yet we may be allowed to say, that, wherever any 
of the sisterhood, emulous in valor, endurance, and devotion to 
the Union of the States, have made themselves conspicuous, 
there has proudly stood Indiana inter pares. 

Let those surpass her in the generous strife who can. 

April, 1864. 





Indiana is a young State with forests yet uncut, with 
swamps unchained, and fertile accessible soil untouched by 
the plough ; but she encloses within her borders, and shelters 
under her laws, a population of near a million and a half, — ■ 
representatives of every country in Europe. The history of 
Vincennes and Fort Wayne dates back to the time of Louis 
le Grand, when missionaries and traders led small colonies, 
and ambitious statesmen sent military forces across the ocean 
and along the lakes to isolated western wildernesses for the 
promotion of their several objects ; and to this day the cus- 
toms and language of the French of that period may be found 
to some extent in the region of these towns. Swiss have 
cultivated the sunny slopes of the Ohio since the beginning 
of the present century. Irish in great numbers have within 
the last twenty years established themselves along the rail- 
roads and in centres of business. Germans, their thrifty hands 
having gathered silver in city employments, possess and culti- 
vate farms in every county. English and Scotch give their 
national peculiarities to many a small settlement. Norwe- 
gians and Laplanders sprinkle the northern districts. In 
addition to these members of the Caucasian race numbers 
of negroes live independently and somewhat lazily along Blue 
River and in other comfortable regions, and a few Indians 
fish, hunt, and do some small trading where through suffer- 
ance they remain. 


Beholding this motley population, the transatlantic stranger, 
and even the friendly countryman from the western shores 
of the unfriendly ocean, are ready to declare that Indiana can 
have no oneness, and in consequence no distinctive character ; 
that, with materials unfitted and unfitting if not mutually 
abhorrent, she is and must long -remain an unconglomerate 
mass. The inference is incorrect. A large majority of the 
population is of one stock, — the sturdy old English, — which, 
under the stirring influences of the seventeenth century, 
spread along the Atlantic coast from the bleak rocks of 
Maine to near tropical regions. Through the vicissitudes 
of time and repeated emigration, the characteristics of the 
English of that period have been retained. Indomitable 
energy, ineradicable love of home, unquenchable and deep- 
buried enthusiasm, only called forth by stroke of steel, and 
"that spirit of personal independence which may be sharpened 
into insolence or educated- into manly self-respect," 'are as 
remarkable in the feller of Indiana forests, and the plough- 
man of Indiana prairies, as they were in the self-exiled Puri- 
tan or Cavalier ; — and they form the outline of Indiana as 
they do of all American character. 

The filling up of this fine hard English outline is the 
material derived from the various sources alluded to, and 
modified by as great a variety of circumstances. It is neither 
mean nor common, nor is it Irish, nor German, nor Swiss, 
nor Yankee, nor Southern. Like a grand piece of mosaic 
in which all colors are united to the obscuring of none, and 
the enhancing of the lustre of each, the typical Hoosier is 
dependent on every element for completeness, yet as a whole 
is dissimilar to any part. He is sensitive, excitable, bashful, 
and it may be boastful, enterprising, ardent, and industrious ; 
yet, as a farmer, is apt to leave weeds in his fence corners, and 
as a merchant dislikes to bother his brains with one cent 
calculations. He is no bully, yet is able to use his fist, and 
if he is accused of lying, — the vice most repugnant to his 
nature, — he loses not a moment in applying his fist in a free 
fight. In early times when an application to law required 
long and inconvenient journeys, he administered justice in a 
somewhat summary method : giving notice to an individual 


who disturbed a neighborhood to remove, and if the notice 
was disregarded, administering a hickory limb or displacing 
a cabin roof. No other approach to mob-law has the genuine 
Indianian ever known ; even in the case of an obnoxious 
neighbor his first impulse invariably was to join the weaker 
party; and he gave it up only when satisfied that neither 
justice nor generosity required its defence. 

A decidedly religious stamp was given to Indiana charac- 
ter by the preachers of an early day, — often men of intellect 
as well as zeal, who found their way to the backwoods and 
preached Christ from a cabin-door, or from the shade of a 
-spreading beech, to the sunburnt men and women gathered 
from the region round about. Many an old man now re- 
calls with a thrill the majestic or fiery eloquence of an Arm- 
strong, a Ray, or a Strange, as it rang through the Gothic 
aisles of the primeval forest. To those fervid laborers was 
it owing that the little church was erected as soon as the 
log-cabin afforded the shelter of a home. The contemptu- 
ous application of " North C'lina Church " to men of noto- 
riously worldly or otherwise wicked character, implies a clas- 
sification of a community which is significant of religious 

Many of the early lawyers were men of rare wit and 
literary attainments, but they did not, like their preaching 
contemporaries, permanently influence the character of so- 

Indiana's resources for material wealth are vast, and being 
rapidly developed. Little distinction in the condition of 
citizens exists. A man might perhaps number the rich on his 
fingers, and certainly could the beggars, except such as the 
Old World has sent over the ocean with cards certifying to 
an escape from a shipwreck or a volcano. 

No young State shows finer institutions of learning or of 
charity. Yet many a boy never sees the inside of a school- 
house, and many a man drops into the ballot-box a vote he 
cannot read, and makes the cross instead of his name to a 
deed of sale or purchase. 

There are in every community men who seem to be 
Nature's step-sons, rather than the sons of the bond-woman, 


— their hand against every man, and themselves the object of 
every man's upraised hand or foot. They form that float- 
ing population which is invariably borne on the first wave 
of the tide of civilization, and is the deadly foe to the true 
precursors of progress, — the farmer, the peddler, and the 
preacher. They form, too, that deposit which lies normally 
at the base, but penetrates sometimes to the very top of 
the mass of society. They are the fighting, hating, bitter, 
grasping element, — aristocrats in one position, levellers in 
another. The objects of their special hate in our western 
world are three : the negro, the abolitionist, and, somewhat 
inconsistently, the aristocrat. 

The first murder in the capital of our State was commit- 
ted by a member of a small but notorious association called 
the Chain-gang, formed for the purpose of spattering the 
three objects of detestation with rotten eggs ; of giving them 
nocturnal airings astride of rails, and of indulging in other 
disorderly and lawless proceedings. The sight of a son of 
a Philadelphia clergyman, — a young school-teacher who wore 
kid gloves and fashionable pantaloons, in those days called 
"tights," — inflamed the wrath of one of the Chain-gang to 
such a degree that nothing but death could appease its in- 
tensity. He was ferryman, and one fair day pushed from 
the shore of White River with the unsuspicious young gen- 
tleman in his boat. In mid-stream the offence was expiated. 
The ferryman reached the farther shore alone. For this 
most cruel deed the perpetrator suffered an imprisonment 
of two years in the penitentiary. That pardon is more effec- 
tual than chastisement in the correction of crime, seems to 
be a principle of Indiana officials, as such leniency is by no 
means uncommon. 

The last victim of these murderous rowdies was a negro, 
who, on the Fourth of July, had the impudence to walk on 
the pavement of Washington Street. 

The links of the Chain-gang have long lain in the dust, 
or rusted in the wilderness beyond the Mississippi ; but pas- 
sions do not die; and in the far more pretentious and widely 
extended Golden Circle we find a new embodiment of the 
principle of the ancient Chain-gang. 


At the first election for Governor in 1816, on the admission 
of the Territory of Indiana into the Union as a State, the 
contest naturally turned on the question of slavery. Settlers 
from free and slave States were about equal in number, but 
the friends from North Carolina voted with the emigrants 
from the eastern and middle States, -and the anti-slavery can- 
didate was elected. As the question was entirely local, party 
lines of distinction rising from slavery were soon effaced, 
and slavery was for many years a subject of neither political 
nor social interest. A certain soreness, however, was pro- 
duced, and kept alive, by the escape of a slave, at rare in- 
tervals, in or through Indiana. 

In 1824 or 1825, an individual informed a handsome slave- 
woman, Nellie, who was accompanying her master from 
Virginia to Missouri, that Indiana was free soil. In conse- 
quence she refused to proceed on the journey, and the master 
had resort to law. Judge Morris of Indianapolis, before 
whom the case was tried, pronounced the woman free. Judge 
Park of the Supreme Court, to which the exasperated master 
appealed, reversed the decision. Meantime the woman had 
fled, and she could not for several weeks be found. At last 
she was traced to a cabin occupied by a widow, on the bluffs 
of White River. The sheriff with his attendants appeared 
unexpectedly at the door. Admittance was delayed, and 
while they waited, the woman of the house, her head en- 
veloped in Nellie's bright colored handkerchief, sprang from 
the back window, and ran Uke a deer towards the woods. 
With a whoop and hurrah, like hunters when the game is in 
sight, the servants of the law followed. The moment they 
turned, the cabin-door opened, and with stealthy steps the 
fugitive, guided by a young girl, the daughter of the kind 
countrywoman, sought and found shelter in a neighboring 
cave. But Nellie was betrayed. With twenty dollars the 
sheriff beguiled the girl to point out her hiding-place. Inci- 
dents of this kind, serving as they did to awaken sympathies 
which otherwise would have lain dormant, were like drops 
gathering for the long delayed storm. 

From the time of General Jackson's election to the Pres- 
idency in 1828, party spirit became warm in Indiana as 


everywhere else, although it was not until 1840 that national 
politics exercised a controlling influence in the election of 
State officers. During the following twelve years party spirit 
ran with great violence ; but the defeat sustained by the Whig 
party, not only in Indiana but throughout the Union, in 
1852, terminated its existence. In 1854, the slumbering vol- 
cano, which had shaken the nation in 1820, and again in 
1850, was a third time evoked by a repeal of the Missouri 

The fathers of the Republic, with the fact that slavery had 
been forced upon them by the mother-country in spite of 
clerical and legislative opposition fresh in their minds, and 
incapable of imagining their descendants seduced into an 
affection for and an approval of so vast an evil, regarded it 
as doomed to gradual extinction. The middle of the nine- 
teenth century found many willing defenders of what they 
called a divine institution. The citizens of the free States, 
opposed in principle and feeling to slavery, regarded it as 
the charge if not the curse of the South, and as such were 
unwilling to trouble themselves with it; and yielded again 
and again to its repeated claims for protection. Many young 
politicians, blinded by personal ambition, gave their voices 
to the support of Southern views for the sake of obtaining 
Southern votes. In 1820 the State of Missouri was given 
up to slavery, freedom receiving from slavery in return the 
territory north of 36° 30'. In 1854 slavery denounced the 
existence of this barrier as a reproach and stigma, and in- 
sisted that the territory of Kansas which lay above the 
slave line, and was calling for admission into the "sisterhood 
of States, should be received as a slave State. 

Opposition to this demand united large numbers of Dem- 
ocrats and Whigs with the small party of Free-soilers, and 
formed a new organization styling itself the Republican party, 
which by force of circumstances was confined almost exclu- 
sively to the free States. A small party ignoring the slavery 
question was organized, and called itself the Know-nothing 
or American party. The old Democratic name was kept by 
those who were in favor of letting the people of each Terri- 
tory determine what should be the character of its institu- 


tions as a State. This party carried the election of 1856 
Indiana voting with it. 

Emigrants poured into Kansas from the North, determined 
that it should be a free State ; from the South, determined 
that it should be a slave State. Civil war, with horrors and 
outrages unparelleled, resulted. Prominent in this strife on the 
anti-slavery side was an old man, who, two years later, was 
to shake the nation from centre to circumference. This man, 
hating slavery as a personal enemy which had murdered his 
sons, as well as an enemy to human rights, conceived it his 
mission to destroy the monster. With an adaptation of 
means to the end proposed, worthy of insanity, he took 
twenty-two men, five of them of the oppressed race, organ- 
ized in Canada a provisional government of the United 
States, with himself as Commander-in-chief, and penetrated 
to the mountains of Virginia, whither he had arms secretly 
shipped to furnish those who should join him. 

Sunday night, October 16, 1859, he seized the unsuspect- 
ing village of Harper's Ferry and took possession of the 
United States Armory. The nation was astonished, electri- 
fied, at the boldness of the attempt. State and national 
troops poured to the spot, but were held at bay by the old 
man for thirty hours, when, having lost two sons and eleven 
others of his twenty-two, and having been himself repeatedly 
and seriously wounded, he was overpowered. The fanati- 
cism, as it was almost universally called, North as well as 
South, of John Brown, was equalled by the unflinching 
bravery, sturdy independence, patient endurance, and grim, 
puritanic piety which extorted the admiration even of those 
who demanded and took his life as the expiation of his crime. 
These traits were remarkably exemplified when the magnani- 
mous mother of Presidents carried to her bar on his couch 
her wounded, helpless prisoner, — pushed on his trial with 
unseemly haste to conviction and the death sentence, and 
guarded the short remnant of the life allowed him, — which 
common humanity would have deemed properly passed in 
a secure hospital, — by thousands of her soldiers from the 
danger of an imaginary rescue to the scaffold. 

This was in December 1859. In less than eighteen months 


regiments of United States troops marched through the 
streets of the most conservative city of the North singing 
to a wild simple melody — 

" John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave, 
But his soul is marching on ! " 

The growth in the North of the sentiment of opposition to 
the extension of slavery, together with the division of the 
Democratic party, brought about by those who have since 
led in the attempt to divide the Union, insured the election 
of a Republican President in 1860; Lincoln being elected by 
a plurality 30,000 larger than elected his predecessor. The 
vote of Indiana, one of the most conservative States, had 
changed from a Republican minority of 46,681 to a majority 
of 5,923. 

Although a Republican President was constitutionally 
elected, the judicial and legislative branches of the government 
were in the opposition, and would have remained so through 
his term of office, so that no offensive measures could have 
been passed, nor even objectionable cabinet ministers ap- 
pointed. Not only this, Congress declared its willingness to 
incorporate into the Constitution a clause utterly prohibiting 
interference with slavery in the States. 

The loyal States, together with those which were trembling 
in the balance, sent delegates to a pacificatory convention 
presided over by an Ex- President of the United States, who 
as President having betrayed the party which elected him, 
has since eclipsed his old disgrace by the crime of treason 
to his country. Among Indiana's delegates to this conven- 
tion were Mr. Lincoln's Secretary of the Interior and General 
Hackleman, who lately gave his life to his country on the 
field of Shiloh. 

But no honorable concessions could satisfy those who had 
predetermined the destruction of the Government. They un- 
derstood better than the North itself the deep significance of 
the election of Lincoln. It was an assurance to them that 
a spirit had moved upon the face of the chaos into which 
the political parties of the North had crumbled, and that they 
must break or be broken upon the new creation. It was an 
assurance that the power, which had not only filled the presi- 


dential chair and courts of law, term after term, but had 
underreached and overreached, had misconstrued and misap- 
plied the Constitution, until the simplicity and integrity of 
that document seemed forever gone, had reached its flood. 
And it was an assurance, — but even the far-reaching states- 
men of the South did not recognize this, — of the upheaving 
of the heads of the everlasting rocks of justice, and of the 
utterance of the long silent divine voice : " No farther, ye 
waves of barbarism, shall ye go ! " 

The politicians of the South had not waited for this hour. 
More than thirty years every art known to them, — and no 
politicians are so wily as those of a Republic, — had been used 
to bring the Southern public into subjection to an oligarchy. 
Society itself from its very base passively seconded their 
efforts. The upper, middle, and lower classes which are 
usually found in civilized nations, and which the most demo- 
cratic communities have never yet been able to abrogate, are 
here merged into two, standing at a formidable and almost 
impassable distance. The common saying that " poor people 
are mean," harsh as may be the sentiment, is not incorrect 
in the society in which it originated. The poor whites of 
the South are monstrously degraded. Red-skinned savages 
were never more malicious and bloodthirsty. In the older 
slave States they are lazier and feebler than the correspond- 
ing class in the North : they submit without resistance to 
kicks, cuffs, and blows ; but let them scent the negro or the 
abolitionist and they are no longer listless and spiritless : their 
sallow visages light up, their skinny fingers clutch the rifle 
or the stone, and they are as keen as bloodhounds. Yet 
wide as the barrier between them, the proud and selfish slave- 
holders, whose souls swelled with the endeavor to grasp the 
aggrandizement a future, independent of the plodding North, 
seemed to offer, and the luckless, slaveless dwellers of sandy 
or marshy regions, whose only foothold for pride is the 
inferior position of the negro, have one common ancestry, — 
for whether descended from convict or cavalier, their origin 
is English ; as the harsh, coarse hate which distinguishes 
both, if not peculiar to the Anglo-Saxon, is at least incon- 
testably one of his characteristics, until eradicated by intel- 


lectual refinement or religious principle ; and is so certainly 
alien "to the French that it can be no heirloom of the noble 
Huguenots who sought a refuge on the west Atlantic coast, 
and who, excepting a few Spaniards, were the only other 
white settlers. They had also one common ground of in- 
terest and affection, and they burned with one common desire 
" to carry war to the densely populated cities of the North, 
which offered food for the sword and the torch, and to make 
the grass grow on the pavements now worn off by com- 
merce." * The stream of emigration which set in from Euro- 
pean shores early in the present century, carried a large pro- 
portion, especially within later years, of Irish emigrants to the 
South, where the element of disorder, inherent in the son of 
Erin, readily assimilated with the revolutionary tendencies of 
slavery — aristocracy and objectless discontent. 

Immediately after the election of Lincoln, South Carolina 
with dramatic dignity announced her determination to secede 
from the Union. Secession was assumed to be a Constitu- 
tional right, and the provocation sufficient to warrant the 
assertion of that right. The North was incredulous and 
amused. Amusement became derision ; derision intensified 
itself to scorn, and scorn blazed into a vast indignation when 
the little arrogant sovereignty officially and formally carried 
her announcement into effect ; and one by one nearly every 
other slave State followed her leading. 

* Speech of Jeff. Davis in Stevenson, Alabama, February, 1861. 




April 12, 1S61, the telegraph flashed through the Union 
the intelligence that a United States fort on the coast of 
South Carolina — Fort Sumter — was bombarded. No man 
living within the limits of America will ever forget that des- 
patch. The old earth itself seemed to reel under a blow, and 
no longer to afford a sure foothold. Through the long Satur- 
day that followed, business was at a stand ; business houses 
were closed, and men with clinched fists and high-beating 
hearts stood on the 'street-corners and at the doors of the 
telegraph office. That night, from the knobs of the Ohio 
to the sand-hills of Lake Michigan, from the Quaker towns 
on the eastern border to the prairie farms on the western 
line, the streets of Indiana were black with breathless multi- 
tudes still awaiting tidings of the seventy loyal men in an 
unfinished fort, bombarded by ten thousand raging rebels ! 
When the banner appeared, — the banner which within the 
memory of the present generation had only idly fluttered in 
holiday breezes, — a new meaning seemed to stream from its 
folds : hats were taken off as in the presence of something 
sacred ; and shouts, beginning, it might be, brokenly and in 
tears, rose and swelled and made walls and skies resound. 

At ten o'clock a despatch was announced : " Sumter has 
fallen." Young men and men in middle life looked at the 
white faces and wet eyes of old and venerated citizens who 
stood in the street waiting for tidings, and a great stillness 
fell upon all. They turned to separate and creep silently to 
their homes. Another despatch ! " Mr. Lincoln will issue a 
Proclamation to-morrow, calling for seventy-five thousand 
volunteers." Cheer upon cheer, roar upon roar responded. 
The white-faced old men grew red : they stamped, pounded, 
wept, roared with the loudest, wildest, and maddest. Good, 


cold-blooded people who had gone to bed, sprang up, threw 
open their windows, screamed to passers-by for information, 
and joined, too, in the national shout. 

Sunday the tidings and events of the preceding day and 
night seemed like an insane dream ; and the crowd again 
hung about the doors of telegraph and newspaper offices, but 
with anxious sickening hearts they turned away, when the 
night's intelligence was confirmed past the shadow of a doubt, 
and laid their grief and dread at the foot of the God of Na- 
tions. The voice of congregation and choir this day reunited 
in the utterance of national songs, and sanctified them. 

Governor Morton's proclamation followed the President's. 
Indiana's quota of the seventy-five thousand was six thou- 
sand. Governor Morton's proclamation was the blast of a war- 
trumpet. The clerk dropped his pen, the woodman his axe, 
the ploughman left his plough in the furrow, the machinist 
his hammer beside the locomotive boile?; and before the blast 
had died away in the forest and over the waves of Lake 
Michigan, fifteen thousand stalwart soldiers stood ready for 
war. Gray-haired men who had thought themselves pre- 
pared to depart in peace prayed that they might be longer 
spared. Not content with prayers, many a shaking hand 
took down the rusted rifle. 

"No, no. You have served your country long enough," 
replied a captain to an applicant who had fought in the 
battle of the Thames. By dint of colored hair and beard, 
one old soldier of the war of 1812 found his way into the 
ranks, and was mustered in with men young enough to be 
his grandsons. " If I were only four years younger! " sighed 
Major Whitlock, the contemporary of General Harrison. 
" Ninety is not too old in such a cause ; and the young people 
know nothing of war. Fifty years of profound peace have 
made no soldiers." 

Men who had more money than muscle did not lag behind 
in generosity. Winslow and Lanier of New York, the latter 
formerly an Indiana man, offered Governor Morton twenty- 
five thousand dollars. William Morrison of Indianapolis, one 
thousand. T. J. Brooks of Loogootee, to Captain Kimball's 
company, one thousand dollars. The Indianapolis Branch of 


the Bank of the State, donated one thousand dollars for the 
use of Marion County volunteers and their families. Evans- 
ville gave fifteen thousand dollars. Madison, six thousand 
dollars. The little towns gave without stint to the families 
of volunteers. Union City, with a population of less than 
one thousand, and not a rich man in the number, gave four- 
teen hundred dollars. Noblesville, twenty-five thousand dol- 
lars, collected at an evening meeting, within a few minutes. 
Cass County, six thousand dollars ; Elkhart County, eight 
thousand dollars ; Greensburg, two thousand dollars ; Win- 
chester, almost one thousand. The limits of a Gazetteer, 
alone, would suffice for a full enumeration. Farmers, without 
the slightest thought or desire for remuneration, bestowed their 
best horses ; women robbed their chests of well-preserved 
blankets, and, dropping household needlework, sewed day 
and night on soldiers' shirts and drawers. 

The legislature, which met in pursuance of a call from 
Governor Morton, April 24, transacted business without the 
utterance of a party-word. The officers in both Senate and 
House w T ere elected unanimously; — perhaps the State-House 
of Indiana will never again present such a spectacle. 

In agreement with a suggestion in the Message of Gover- 
nor Morton, arrangements were made for the disposal of sur- 
plus troops, and an appropriation of one million dollars for 
army purposes. 

The volunteers, almost without exception, made pecuniary 
sacrifices : leaving positions on railroads and farms, in shops 
and offices, all of which were respectable, and if not lucrative, 
were at least comfortable. They rose in haste at their coun- 
try's call, with no time nor heart to count the cost, but ready 
to give all. Would the means be forthcoming ? Would the 
way to action be opened ? In the words of the adjutant- 
general: "The citizens of Indiana, belonging almost exclu- 
sively to the agricultural class, had been devotedly engaged, — 
since the earliest settlement of tho State, beginning with the 
close of the war of 1812, — in the peaceful pursuit of clearing 
away the forests, cutting roads, and in various ways devel- 
oping the vast resources of her fertile soil. Thus for nearly 
fifty years peace had held her willing sway, until the convic- 


tion bad almost escaped the minds of men that every able- 
bodied man in the nation was bound to do his country mili- 
tary service in times of threatened public danger. Probably 
at no period in the world's history has a people been found 
so little prepared for war." 

The military institutions of Indiana consisted of a quar- 
termaster-general and an adjutant-general, — who filled the 
offices for some such sum as one hundred dollars annually, — 
and of a militia which existed only in name. 

The preceding winter Hon. Lewis Wallace, now General 
Wallace, drew up a bill modelled after the law of Massa- 
chusetts, and labored earnestly to have it pass the legislature 
for the organization of State militia. It failed, and when the 
outbreak came there were, perhaps, five independent compa- 
nies in existence. There was not a shotted cartridge in the 
State ; not enough effective arms for a single regiment ; no 
knapsacks, haversacks, canteens, — in short, a total lack of 
camp and garrison equipage. The States are each entitled 
to a certain allowance of arms ; but Indiana had made no 
requisition on the Government, and in consequence had not 
for several years received any arms. 

The finances of Indiana were in a lower condition than 
they had been for twenty years. The State treasury was 
empty. The school-fund had been largely drawn upon to 
defray the expenses of the Government, including the pay 
of the legislature. Moreover the new governor had not been 
elected to the office. It had fallen upon him because his 
superior had accepted a place in the United States Senate. 
His executive abilities were unknown. Under these circum- 
stances, it was a hundred-fold more difficult to raise means 
for the subsistence, equipment, and transportation of six thou- 
sand troops, than it would have been to form an army of 
twenty thousand men. -But if any man in the United States 
has a right to look the nation in the face and say, " I have 
done my duty," that man is Governor Morton. 

The day before the President's Proclamation was issued 
he sent two agents to the eastern cities and one to Canada, 
to make arrangements for procuring arms and equipments. 
Immediately after the Proclamation he summoned Lewis 


Wallace, Esq., of Crawford sville, to assume the office of 
adjutant-general. Before the 27th of April the six required 
regiments were organized and formed into a brigade, with 
Thomas A. Morris, brigadier-general ; John Love, brigade 
inspector with the rank of major; and Milo S. Hascall, aide- 
de-camp, with the rank of captain. These gentlemen were 
all educated at West Point, and possessed of experience and 
ability. They assembled the throngs of volunteers, who were 
streaming to the capital from every part of the State, in a 
beautiful grove north of the city, where for many years Meth- 
odist camp-meetings had been held ; established a military 
camp, and named the formerly sacred spot, in honor of the 
governor, Camp Morton. 

The regiments were numbered not from one, but from six, 
out of respect, it was publicly said, for the five regiments en- 
gaged in the Mexican war, and for the purpose of preventing 
historical confusion. It was privately suggested, that the 
cause lay deeper in the unenviable reputation gained by the 
Indiana Second in the Mexican war, — a reputation now 
understood to have been undeservedly bestowed by Jeff Da- 
vis, in the selfish desire to exonerate himself and his Missis- 
sippians. But not even a slandered number should be affixed 
to an Indiana regiment. Not the stern Roman of unrivalled 
renown was more jealous of his honor, than the young State 
which had yet no history. 

The subordinate officers knew little or nothing of military 
rules or discipline, but they made up in diligence for what 
was lacking in intelligence. Men who had scarcely opened 
a book since freed from the trammels of school, became vio- 
lent devotees to learning. Hardee's " Tactics " came sud- 
denly into requisition ; dictionaries, English and French, were 
equally in demand. Pupils and teachers alternated ; and 
every secluded spot in the neighborhood of Camp Morton 
was converted either into a class-room or a private study. 
Privates were often not more ignorant than their officers ; 
yet being more numerous were the butt of many a good- 
natured jest, especially the strapping farmer youths who were 
following the plough in their bare feet when the war sum- 
mons came, and joined the ranks unshod. It was said, that 


the technical terms " right and left " were entirely above their 
comprehension, and that it was necessary to substitute the 
familiar words " gee and haw." 

Between the words traitor and poison there seems to be a 
relationship, at least one is suggestive of the other ; and as it 
was known that traitors existed even in Indianapolis, — al- 
though now the boldest traitor dared not utter a word in the 
face of the tempest of public opinion, — rumors of poisoning 
soon excited attention and suspicion. The power of imagi- 
nation was never better illustrated than by the sudden convul- 
sions into which some in camp were thrown, in consequence 
of eating oranges and drinking water reported to be poisoned ; 
and by the instantaneous cure effected by the sight of the 
young post-surgeon coolly and with impunity partaking of 
the poisoned fruit and water. Men were actually cast into 
and snatched from the very gripe of death. 

There was, however, genuine sickness in camp. The rough 
impromptu hospital was soon filled, and one stormy midnight 
a man died. Poor soul ; he had done nothing for the cause 
which had stirred his enthusiasm, but then he had had no 
. long marches, no hungry days, no weary, sleepless nights, 
no neglect and abuse as hundreds and thousands of others 
have had who since have died like him seemingly to no pur- 
pose ! 

The President's Proclamation, which stirred Indiana and 
all the North to their very depths, was to the unruly spirits 
of Virginia and Maryland, which together encircle the Dis- 
trict of Columbia, what the spark is to the well-laid train of 
gunpowder. Without awaiting the action of convention or 
legislature they threatened the capital, and made it necessary 
to order troops to Washington immediately after an army 
had been called into existence. In obedience to the summons 
a regiment of Massachusetts soldiers arrived at Baltimore, 
on the way to the capital, — April 19, as it happened, — the 
anniversary of the day on which the first blow for indepen- 
dence was struck in 1775. A mob, excited to madness by 
individuals who themselves remained quiet and undiscovered, 
attacked the soldiers before they had left the train and while 
they were still unarmed, and shed there, — in the streets of a 


city of Maryland, Massachusetts blood. Sacred blood! The 
first to be poured out in the assertion of independence, — 
the first in defence of the Constitution ! 

Five weeks later a whisper thrilled all the North, — a 
whisper (for no man dared say aloud) that a Rebel hand 
had fired into the heart of Ellsworth. Ellsworth was a poor, 
laborious young student, and small was the circle of his 
acquaintance ; but with his uplifted hand tearing down, his 
eager foot trampling on, the emblem of the traitor, his im- 
pulsive heart pierced and bleeding, he stood to the nation 
a type of the greatness and the woe which now hung over 
her youth. 




Virginia was dragged out of the Union. Her people were 
opposed to Secession. When the Convention, elected by a 
large Union majority to discuss the subject, passed the Ordi- 
nance of Secession, the State presented, what was now no 
longer an anomaly, the spectacle of the executive officers of 
the Government, elected by the people, on one side, and the 
people themselves on the other. Emissaries, however, with 
arguments as various as the minds which form a community, — 
a pistol ostentatiously worn, — a Minie ball, with a hole perfo- 
rated, tied to a button, — a promise of position or a specious 
misrepresentation, — achieved unanimity of opinion in East 
Virginia and in the Valley. But west of the Alleghanies lay 
a district which defied treason, however it might be enforced, 
or in whatever guise it might be arrayed. This region, in its 
alienation from the older parts of the State, affords not the 
least among the many striking proofs of the preservation or 
restoration of mediaeval traits in the slave States. In Europe, 
in those times when communication between lands separated 
by mountains was so difficult as to be almost impossible, 
nations lay side by side in entire ignorance — or in ignorance 
enlightened only by travelling monks — each of the laws, cus- 
toms, and language of the other; even the same nation, divided 
by the emigration of a colony, or a roving tribe, beyond a 
mountain-chain, grew in its parts unlike and often inimical. 
It might be imagined that, in our new country, time had not 
sufficed to alienate any one portion of the population, espe- 
cially of the same State, from any other portion. But with 
the assistance of numerous secondary agents, not much time 
is necessary to rust the strongest bonds of union. 

Poor sons of Virginia climbed the Alleghanies, settled on 
the Cheat, the Kanawha, and the Big Sandy, and grew to be 


another people. In the course of time, it is true, two fine 
roads were made across the mountains: the northern, over the 
triple ranges of Laurel Hill, Cheat, and Alleghany, from 
Parkersburg on the Ohio, through Clarksburg, Philippi, Buck- 
hannon, and Beverly, to Staunton, in the Valley ; the southern, 
from Charleston across the Gauley to Lewisburg ; but the 
journey along these roads was long and laborious, and never 
could be undertaken unless prompted by necessity or the de- 
mands of the warmest affection. No railroad to this day dis- 
turbs the old-time quiet which prevails in all but the northern 
line of West Virginia. There was little then of intercourse to 
keep alive old affections, or to preserve old ties of any char- 

Much, on the contrary, tended to dissimilarity in character 
and estrangement in feeling. Scarcity of slaves obliged the 
new settlers to regard free labor with favor. An abundance 
of salt-springs, coal-beds, and oil-wells induced respect for 
commerce and manufactures, and for mechanical and trading 
intelligence. A magnificent railroad, the work of Northern 
enterprise, in connecting the Ohio with the seaboard, unites 
West Virginia with both. The rivers of West Virginia rise 
and run their whole course within her own borders, and all 
flow into the free Ohio. The odd-shaped, prolonged district, 
squeezed between Ohio and Pennsylvania, and called the 
Pan-Handle, contains the busiest, most flourishing, and most 
intelligent town in the State, and is full of emigrants and the 
descendants of emigrants from New England, New York, and 
Pennsylvania. Thus shut off in her youth by bulwarks and 
fastnesses of nature's own engineering and handiwork from the 
blooming valley and fruitful plains of Old Virginia, and con- 
nected by rivers, railroad, community of interests, and con- 
geniality of pursuits with the ready and enterprising North, it 
could not be that West Virginia should remain indissolubly 
attached to the East; and it is quite conceivable that even 
before the Secession movement the two portions of the State 
regarded each other .with no friendly eyes. 

Yet the new territory was proud of the grand old historical 
name; and the Old Dominion appreciated a region which has 
nowhere its superior, if its equal, in beauty, in grandeur, in 
variety, and in capacity for wealth. 


These last and only ties the hand of loyalty was forced to 
cut. A Convention, representing the counties west of the 
Alleghanies, met at Wheeling after the passage of the Ordi- 
nance of Secession, and honestly carried out the wishes of 
the people. Consequently, twenty-nine counties of Virginia 
remained true to the United States Government. 

These proceedings vastly increased the disgust of the old 
families of the East to the upstarts of the West, while they 
did not at all diminish their appreciation of the remunerative 
valleys and the tax-paying manufactories between the Ohio 
and the Alleghanies. They sent politicians to pursue dili- 
gently and cunningly the work of conversion, while they lost 
no time in preparing an army to take forcible possession. 

It may be thought, from their loyalty, from their comparative 
enterprise, from the small number of their slaves, and from 
their freedom from the most vicious influences of slavery, that 
the West Virginians are a peculiarly intelligent people. On 
the contrary, while here and there are highly cultivated indi- 
viduals and families, large numbers of the people are very 
ignorant, — victims of the hatred borne by the Southern States 
to free schools. At the taking of the last census, the Virgin- 
ians unable to read were reckoned at a hundred thousand. 
The proportion of this number found in the Western valleys 
is not small. More than four fifths of the men arrested since 
the beginning of the war have been obliged to make their 
mark, in lieu of their names, to the oath of allegiance. 

There is a region in Randolph and Webster counties, along 
the sources of the Cheat and the Holly, where are forests as 
savage as the unexplored wildernesses of Oregon. There the 
growl of the bear, the cry of the panther, and the bark of the 
wolf are sometimes still heard, and the dreary owl nightly 
wakes the echoes. Laurel-brakes stretch out like inland seas, 
and with never-fading leaves and snake-like branches inter- 
laced, forbid a passage to even the light-footed deer; black- 
berry bushes extend miles in compact masses ; superb firs lift 
up their crowned heads to the height of a hundred and fifty 
feet ; and silvery cascades never cease their solitary murmur. 
Scattered wherever a clearing can most easily be made, in 
log-cabins, which bear a closer resemblance to wood-piles than 


to dwellings, live mountaineers to whom a newspaper is a 
curiosity, a book a sealed mystery, a locomotive an unimagi- 
nable monster, and a telegraph wire a supernatural agency, the 
touch of which might produce some indefinable evil. Even 
a tallow-candle is not a familiar thing, and a slip of pine 
lights the narrow precincts of the rude cabin, or pine knots 
send out from the wide chimney a glare more brilliant than 
the gas of cities. 

A mountaineer, who had lived thirty years on one farm in 
this district, was asked by our scouts the name of his county. 
"Virginny!" he answered, and was positively unaware of 
the subdivision of a State into counties. Yet this man was 
in as good circumstances, and seemed as intelligent as his 
neighbors. At the same time an old woman, with impertur- 
bable gravity, insisted that her family were neither Unionists 
nor Secessionists, but Baptists. 

Even when education laid hold of the elementary sciences 
of reading and writing, it stopped short of grammar and orthog- 
raphy. Captured mail-bags exhibited curious and sometimes 
incomprehensible imitations of sound. Neither profanity nor 
treason are discoverable in a resolution to support the Seces- 
sion cause " as shure as goddlemity ranes." 

Ignorance tells more painfully upon women than upon 
men ; and the women are listless, hopeless, sallow, lean, gaunt, 
and ugly beyond description. Were it not for a certain ex- 
pression of sad patience on their face and in their demeanor, 
they could not but be objects of ridicule or disgust to the 
stranger.- Their morbid imaginations have long received with 
ready credence the wild stories of Abolition cruelty passing 
from mouth to mouth, and they have been taught to regard 
Abolitionists as moral outlaws, violators of every social, civil, 
and divine ordinance. Secession agents found encourage- 
ment in every secluded valley, mountain forest, or mossy vil- 
lage, and had no difficulty in convincing even voters, that, in 
order to preserve the Union, it was necessary to crush Aboli- 
tionism, the bugbear which for the last thirty years has fright- 
ened the refractory into submission. A hundred young men, 
who joined Wise from one district, were fully persuaded that 
they were engaged in a crusade against Abolitionism, which 


was seeking the destruction of the Government. But it is a 
great and happy truth, that, while prejudice, suspicion, and 
hate find a genial soil in ignorant minds, the principles on 
which the good of humanity depends may be apprehended 
by the plainest understanding. We find many a man, to 
whom the alphabet is a mystery as occult as Egyptian hiero- 
glyphics, looking straight at the right in this question of 
Secession and Union, recognizing his duty to the Government 
and disdaining disloyalty. 

By the orders of the Confederate Government, General 
Garnett, about the middle of May, with a force of ten or 
twelve thousand, took possession of the gaps in the broken 
range west of the Alleghanies, called Cheat Mountains, and 
advancing along the turnpike, established his head-quarters at 
Beverly, a village on the eastern base of a long ridge parallel 
with the Alleghanies and the Cheat, and known as the Laurel 
Hill. From this point he sent detachments to various places 
in the valleys of the Tygart and the Cheat rivers. The de- 
tachment stationed at Grafton, which commands the railroad, 
in a little while destroyed the bridges in the direction of 
Wheeling. General McClellan, whose department included 
West Virginia, immediately ordered troops to advance into 
the disputed territory, and issued proclamations at the same 
time to his soldiers and to the inhabitants. He declared to 
the people that his army should respect property of every 
kind, in no way causing or allowing the institution of slavery, 
whether among loyal or disloyal owners, to be disturbed. His 
proclamation to the soldiers closed with the noble sentiment 
of mercy: " Soldiers, remember that your only foes are armed 
traitors, and show mercy even to them when in your power, 
for many of them are misguided." General McClellan was 
warmly seconded by his subordinate officers, and as warmly by 
the privates. Every man in the United States uniform, called 
to West Virginia, understood that mercy and justice were to 
go hand in hand, and had at the same time a proud satisfac- 
tion in marching to the relief of a gallant people threatened 
with destruction. 

May 27th, the First Virginia, a regiment which was raised 
and offered to the President immediately after the Convention 


at Wheeling had resolved that the counties there represented 
should not secede, and two Ohio regiments, were ordered to 
drive the enemy from Grafton. After some delay, caused by 
the necessity of building bridges, they arrived to meet, instead 
of a warlike, an enthusiastically friendly reception. — The 
Rebel troops had retreated to Philippi. 




Before Indiana's first brigade has entered upon its career 
of danger and duty, it may be well to form some acquaint- 
ance with the colonels, the men on whom, perhaps more than 
on any other, privates are dependent for health and comfort, 
for mental and moral improvement, for success in the day of 
battle and on the perilous march, and for safety when for safety 
the soldier may blamelessly strive*,' — and an introduction 
to Indiana's first Brigadier-General may not be amiss. They 
are all men in their prime, although Milroy, the oldest, bears in 
his gray hair and in the number of his years, fifty-five, tokens 
that he has passed the line we call the meridian of life ; and 
Wallace, the youngest, does not yet count thirty-five, and in 
his buoyant step and lithe form gives no indication of the 
insinuating influences which in the maturity of years seldom 
fail to steal away the spring and gush of life. 

Thomas T. Crittenden, Colonel of the Sixth, was born in 
Alabama, educated in Kentucky, and had his first experience 
as a lawyer in Missouri. In 1846, when war was declared 
between Mexico and the United States, he threw aside his 
books, left a lucrative and rapidly increasing practice, and 
enlisted as a private in the Second Regiment of Missouri 
Volunteers, then commanded by Colonel Sterling Price. He 
remained in the service until near the close of the war, re- 
ceived promotion to a lieutenancy, and was afterwards selected 
by his superior officers to write a history of the regiment. He 
became a citizen of Madison, Indiana, in 1848, and pursued 
the practice of law with energy and success. His Southern 
training gave him such an insight into Southern character and 
views, that, while almost every other individual in the State 
ridiculed the idea of rebellion, he acknowledged the danger, 
and endeavored to rouse a general anxiety. As early as 
January 1861, he organized a company and offered it to Gov- 


ernor Morton. On the 19th of April he went to Indianapolis 
with his company, and shortly after was elected and commis- 
sioned Colonel of the Sixth Regiment. Crittenden is stout 
and ruddy, frank, genial, and cheerful, with the comfortable, 
friendly aspect and manner which distinguish the Kentucky 

Colonel Dumont, of the Seventh, — sallow, lean, and small, 
with an irascible, melancholy countenance, lighted up by a 
keen, deep-set eye, and sometimes additionally illuminated by 
flashes of dry humor, — is not only strikingly unlike the good- 
humored, hearty Crittenden*, but is a sort of contrast within 
himself, and consequently has earned an unenviable reputa- 
tion for eccentricity. Few men laugh so heartily, yet few 
look so morose ; few are so tender, almost none so harsh ; not 
many are so generous, yet many are more kind. He has 
attacks of devoutness which would lead one to think him 
most reverent and pious, yet his most partial friends do not 
call him religious. As lawyer, politician, and banker he has 
shown shrewdness, industry, and remarkable uprightness. 

He was born in Indiana, in Vevay, a little Swiss town on 
the Ohio, — was taught principally by his mother, a woman 
of genius, who, if she had not been absorbed by the cares of 
a large family, and worn by the privations of a new country, 
would have won enduring fame as a writer, — and studied law 
with his father, a man also of ability, education, and refine- 
ment of feeling. Almost the first act of the son, however, on 
arriving at maturity, was to announce himself a Democrat in 
a public meeting, to the great disgust of the old Whig, his 
father, who immediately rose and stalked out of the house. 
Although not a man of military habits and tastes, and so 
under the influence of passing emotions that tactics and army 
discipline can be anything but agreeable, he volunteered even 
before the present war, and served honorably and usefully 
under General Taylor in Mexico. Such of the circumstances 
of war as touch a poetic fancy no doubt warmed his enthu- 
siasm, but patriotism was the main incentive, and he then 
was as eager for. the growth and glory of his country as he is 
now resolute for its preservation. He was prominent among 
the speakers the night of the announcement of the surrender 


of Sumter ; and his eloquence, made up* of mingled pathos, 
wit, and denunciation, and uttered in a voice so peculiar that 
it seemed to mock at his own feelings, drew tears and laugh- 
ter and shouts from his excited audience. He led the list of 
offerings to the Government that night by the contribution of 
a horse with a man on his back. 

Colonel Milkoy, of the Ninth, is also a native of Indiana. 
His father was so strong a Democrat in theory and practice, 
that he had an unconquerable aversion to colleges, and obsti- 
nately refused the earnest entreaties of his son Robert to be al- 
lowed a liberal education, — entreaties to which the son added 
an offer to relinquish all claim upon the paternal estate. The 
boy was obliged to content himself with books at home, with 
which his father, with an inconsistent liberality, supplied him, 
until he was twenty-four years old ; when, taking advantage 
of a visit to some relatives in Pennsylvania, he pursued his 
way to a military institution in Norwich, Vermont. A gener- 
ous uncle gave him pecuniary assistance until the sturdy Dem- 
ocrat at home relented. In 1843 he graduated, taking the 
degrees of Master of Arts, Master of Military Science, and 
Master of Civil Engineering. He travelled several months 
in New England, teaching fencing and acquiring an acquaint- 
ance with Yankee landscape and character. In 1845 he 
went to Texas and took the oath of allegiance to the Lone 
Star, but after a few months returned to Indiana and settled 
down to the study of law. He was a captain in the First 
Indiana Regiment in the Mexican War, and when his term 
of service expired, endeavored unsuccessfully to procure the 
acceptance of himself, with a company of mounted infantry, 
to serve during the war, — making application first to General 
Taylor, afterwards to the Governor of Texas and the Secre= 
tary of War. Repeated refusals left nothing to the disap- 
pointed captain but to return home and continue the study 
of law. He attended lectures in Bloomington, received a 
degree, and was admitted to the bar in 1849. 

Early in 1861 Milroy was convinced that war was inevi- 
table, and February 7th issued a call for the. formation of a 
volunteer company. Up to the fall of Sumter he succeeded 
in getting but two recruits : Gideon C. Moody, now captain 


in the Eighteenth Regulars and member of General Thomas's 
staff in the Army of the Cumberland; and Albert Guth- 
ridge, now captain in the Forty-eighth Indiana regiment. 
While it was still dark, on the morning after the announce- 
ment of the surrender, with the Court-House bell, a drum 
and fife, he roused and assembled the town of Rensselaer, 
his place of residence, and completed the number before 
breakfast. The same day he reported to Governor Morton 
in Indianapolis. 

There is something in the majestic figure of Robert Mil- 
roy, in the erect head, held often as if watching or listening, 
in the fearless, restless eye, and gray hair turned back from 
the narrow forehead, so suggestive of the cognomen his sol- 
diers have bestowed on him, that one is tempted to wonder 
why even in peace he was not called the " Gray Eagle." 

Lewis Wallace is very American in appearance. His 
deep, flashing, black eye, straight, shining, black hair, and 
erect figure, would be no discredit to the haughtiest Aborigi- 
nal; and the boldness and sharpness, vigor and delicacy of his 
features, the insatiable yet controlled mental activity pervad- 
ing the whole man, and still more the shade of sadness, tinged 
with scorn, resting on his face, and seeming to indicate a sort 
of self-pity, perhaps because of the contrast between the 
transitory nature of the goods of ambition or business, and 
the ardor employed in their pursuit, decidedly stamp him of 
the Anglo-American race, which, as a late English traveller 
says, " loses in the second generation all trace of European 
parentage," certainly the quiet and apparent stolidity of the 
genuine Englishman. 

Lewis Wallace handles the pen and brush with ease and 
taste, and the lawyer's tongue, in his mouth, has lost none of 
its accredited skill. But his genius is military. The clash 
of arms enticed him, when he was scarcely past his boyhood, 
to the fields of Mexico ; and the years spent in the exercise 
of his profession found their choicest recreation in the drill 
of a company of home-guards, to which he taught the ma- 
noeuvres of Napoleon's Zouaves. Like Dumont, he was edu- 
cated in the Whig party, of which his father was a prominent 
and able member, and adopted Democratic principles when 


he arrived at an age to vote. Colonel Wallace is a native 
of Indiana. 

Mahlon D. MansoNj Colonel of the Tenth, was born in 
Ohio. He had few opportunities in his youth for intellectual 
cultivation, and is a self-made man, possessing that accuracy, 
ingenuity, independence, and self-satisfaction which he, who 
battles unaided with fortune and knowledge from his youth, 
is almost certain to acquire. He has spent the most of his 
life in mercantile pursuits ; but he left the counter and the 
ledger in 1846 to engage in the Mexican War, and there 
received the instruction and the discipline which were to pre- 
pare him for a more responsible position in a more important 
conflict. In politics he was always an uncompromising 
Democrat. He is a solid, substantial, good-humored man in 
appearance, with very pleasant and popular manners. 

William P. Benton was educated at Farmer's College, 
Ohio. He studied law early, and is a well-read lawyer. He 
showed his devotion to his country by sacrificing a large 
practice in the wealthy and pleasant town of Richmond to 
accept the charge of the Eighth. He is a safe, reliable man, 
unostentatious and earnest. He has the ruddy hue and 
rotund form of John Bull. 

Indiana's first Brigadier- General is a man so quiet, so 
grave, so almost stolid in countenance and demeanor, with 
features so blunt, and coloring so dark and dead, that the 
eye of the observer, after resting with pleasure on the gallant, 
or animated, or thoughtful, or dignified colonels of his brig- 
ade, might turn to him with something like displeasure,- — 
displeasure however to be swept away by a sure if slow 
recognition of the reserved power in the steady eye, of the 
gentleness and modesty eye and lip and life alike express. 
He stoo^ high as a West Point student, being mentioned with 
honor in the report of the graduating class of 1834 ; and as 
a business-man, a gentleman, and a Christian, his reputation 
is unspotted. Indiana fondly and proudly speaks the name 
of Thomas A. Morris, although his military history is sug- 
gestive only of him who is immortalized in the reflections of 
the royal misanthrope of Scripture, — the poor, wise man, who 
by his wisdom delivered a city, yet was remembered of none. 


The Volunteers expected to be led off to battle, to a 
battle-ground at least, as soon as they enlisted; in conse- 
quence, they bore with extreme impatience the delay and the 
confinement and preparation in Camp Morton. Nothing was 
easier with their stalwart limbs and brawny fists than to 
fight; nothing harder to practise or endure than the monot- 
onous manoeuvres of dress-parade. Officers were not less 
impatient than privates, and earnest solicitations were for- 
warded to the President and General Scott for permission 
to move the Indiana forces toward the East. At length 
General Scott gave orders for the immediate removal of 
the Sixth, Seventh, and Ninth regiments to West Virginia. 
It is impossible to describe the delight afforded to the desig- 
nated regiments by the announcement of these orders. The 
long tedium broken, the dull monotony dispelled, the door to 
action opened and the way made clear, life seemed to have 
a greatness hitherto unknown. The Volunteers felt that thev 
were born for this day, and for the proud work of redeeming 
their country. 

May 29th, the Seventh and the Ninth left Indianapolis. 
The Seventh was composed of men chiefly from the river 
counties. The Ninth was generally from the northwest. One 
of the privates in the latter regiment was a senator, and 
several were representatives in the legislature. May 30tb, 
the Sixth followed. The Sixth was from the east and south- 
east counties ; some Kentuckians, attracted perhaps by the 
name of Crittenden, one of their favorite statesmen and 
the old friend of their especial pride, Clay, had joined the 
standard of his nephew. It is said that one walked a hun- 
dred and twenty miles for the purpose. When the friends 
and relatives of the Volunteers in Madison were shaking 
hands and bidding good-bye, he said, sadly : " I 've no one to 
say, 'God bless you!'" Instantly a hundred hands were 
extended, and a hundred u God bless you's " were uttered. 

As fife-major in the Sixth went an unmusical young 
physician who had performed the duties of surgeon in camp, 
and had expected the position of assistant-surgeon in the 
field. But while he was practising* in the hospital, somebody 
else practised in the Governor's mansion and obtained the 


place. Disappointed, but with undampened resolution, he 
applied to each regiment for admission as private, without 
being able to find a single vacancy. At last Colonel Critten- 
den kindly discovered that the Sixth was in need of a fife- 
major, and, without a very scrutinizing examination, intro- 
duced the applicant to the situation. The talents of the 
young doctor soon made his services in other quarters not 
only acceptable but needful, and he had but one march at the 
head of his regiment as fife-major. 

On the route through Ohio, the troops met with welcoming 
honors, which would not have been inappropriate if bestowed 
upon returning victors. Dinners, breakfasts, and suppers were 
prepared for them ; flowers were showered on them ; speeches 
were made to them; ladies wept at the sight of them; old men 
with outstretched hands called down blessings upon them ; 
infants were held above the heads of crowds to look at them. 
No act that rapturous enthusiasm could prompt was omitted. 

The Ninth reached Grafton on the evening of the day on 
which the Ohio and Virginia troops arrived, and participated 
in the noise and joy of the welcome. The Seventh came the 
next morning ; the Sixth was delayed by broken bridges, and 
Colonel Crittenden reached Webster, a few miles west of 
Grafton, not until the evening of June 2d. But four com- 
panies were with him, the remainder of the regiment having 
been left on the Ohio, to attack a little town, where a muster 
of Rebels was reported. 

From Grafton the Confederates had retreated to Philippi, 
a little town on Tygart's Valley River, and surrounded by hills 
capable of being easily and strongly fortified. With the pol- 
icy of exaggeration they have never hesitated to pursue, they 
gave out, and their friends industriously spread the report, 
that their number amounted to not less than three thousand. 
It did not in reality exceed fifteen hundred. General Morris 
arrived at Grafton on the evening of June 1st, and found 
that Colonel Kelley had organized an expedition for that 
night against Philippi. After a full conference with Colonel 
Kelley, he deemed it advisable to postpone the attack until 
the following night. The next morning Colonel Kelley re- 
ceived orders to take six companies of his own regiment, 


nine companies of Colonel Milroy's, and six companies of 
Irvine's Sixteenth Ohio, to proceed on the railroad to a point 
six miles east of Grafton, and to march by the shortest and 
best route to Philippi. He must arrange his rest at night in 
such a manner that he could be sure of coming before the 
town at four o'clock next morning. Accordingly, at nine in 
the morning Colonel Kelley moved off in the direction of 
Harper's Ferry. The spies, who were numerous and active 
in Grafton, understood the movement to be against Harper's 

General Morris then organized another attacking column 
under Colonel Dumont. It consisted of eight companies of 
the Seventh, to be joined at Webster (a point a few miles 
southwest of Grafton) by five companies of Ohio Volunteers, 
commanded by Colonel Steedman, and two field-pieces, to be 
under the especial charge of Colonel Lander,* who volun- 
teered his services ; also by four companies of the Sixth In- 
diana. They were directed to reach Philippi at precisely four 
o'clock. This column left Grafton after eight in the evening, 
and at Webster found the expected troops, Colonel Critten- 
den having just arrived from the west. The darkness was 
intense; rain poured down in torrents; mud was deep in the 
ravines, slippery on the hill-sides; the distance was twelve 
miles. Circumstances could not .be more untoward. But it 
was the long desired moment for action, and the troops 
started out gayly. All night they trudged up-hill and down, 
drenched and dripping. The last five miles were made in 
one hour and a quarter. Many men fainted and were left 
on the road. Others threw away their haversacks and pro- 
visions, and with desperate exertions kept from falling behind. 
At daylight Colonel Dumont was heard shouting, " Close 
up, boys! Close up! If the enemy were to fire now, they 
could n't hit one of you ! " The order was well-timed ; — the 
boys closed up and cheered up. 

As they approached Philippi, they could perceive no evi- 
dences of the arrival of Kelley's detachment on the other side 
of the town. The infantry was ordered to halt, the artillery 
to advance and get the guns into position. Scarcely had this 

* Colonel Lander was Aid to General McClellan. 



disposition been made when the pickets of the enemy com- 
menced a brisk fire from the heights immediately above the 
town, and from the woods and bushes on both sides of the 
road. Colonel Lander opened fire. The pickets ceased. 
Nothing now obstructed the way. The troops waited a mo- 
ment for orders ; and as they waited, perhaps there was not a 
man whose eye did not glance with admiration upon the rare 
beauty of the scene spread below, — a green valley, encircled 



by forest-crowned cliffs and watered by a winding river, a 
little scattered village, and a snow-drift of tents on the dark 
sward. The pause was but momentary. "With a wild, ring- 
ing cheer, the infantry, the Seventh in advance, rushed down 
the hill, through a narrow bridge, three or four hundred feet 
in length, which spans the river, dashing aside a barricade 
of boards as if it were of wicker, and poured on toward? 


the Rebel camp. Unable to withstand the fascination of the 
shout and the race, the spirited, though moody, Lander left 
the artillery and urged his gallant gray down the rocky 
heights in front, with a temerity rivalling that of the old 
Putnam of Revolutionary times. 

At this moment an answering shout was heard, and Colo- 
nels Kelley and Milroy were seen on the brow of the hill 
southeast of the town. In spite of a twenty-five mile march, 
the last few hours through mud and rain and darkness, down 
dashed the new-comers straight on to the Confederate camp. 
Unfortunately, their delay, though of "not more than fifteen 
minutes' duration, left open one road. Toward this only door, 
out of the trap, without one attempt to get into line of battle, 
the whole body of Confederates turned face and foot. 

" Great on a run, if not much for a fight ! " muttered Colo- 
nel Dumont, as he reined in his horse and cast his eye over 
the scene. 

Pell-mell, helter-skelter, without boots, without hats, with- 
out coats, without pantaloons, through the town, up the 
southern road, over the wall of hills, away they fled, inconti- 
nently, ingloriously, ignominiously. "Shirt-tail retreat!" No 
other thing with so mean a name ever inspired so glorious 
a pursuit. On, on came the Union troops, so tired an hour 
before they could scarcely lift their mud-encumbered feet, 
now fresh as pointers starting up the game. On they came, 
shouting and yelling, pell-mell, helter-skelter, up the height, 
down the height, and scattering through the wood. Peremp- 
tory orders at length recalled the unwearied Seventh, and 
stopped the ardent Ninth. The Sixth, too much fatigued 
to join in the pursuit, had quietly taken possession of the 

The immediate results of this affair were the capture of 
twenty-five thousand dollars' worth of goods, including a 
train, which had just arrived, with fifteen boxes of flint mus- 
kets ; a number of banners, one of which was a splendid 
blue silk, presented by the ladies of Bath County two days 
before, and still redolent of exhortations to bravery and vows 
of fidelity; 5 — killed to the number, it was supposed, of forty; 
a few prisoners ; and such an inauguration of the campaign 


as greatly discouraged one side and proportionably encour- 
aged the other. 

One of the prisoners -was taken in a somewhat singular 
manner. Some half-dozen soldiers were thrusting their sharp 
bayonets into a pile of hay, when a lawyer by the name of 
Martin, the private secretary of Colonel Porterfield, the Con- 
federate commander, issued from under it in mortal terror. 
Assuming a composed and candid countenance, he declared 
that he had been thinking very seriously within the last few 
minutes about this secession movement, and was now ready 
to take the oath of allegiance. No Union soldier was killed, 
and but two wounded, — Colonel Kelley and a private. 

More than three fourths of the inhabitants of Philippi had 
fled, but their property was scrupulously guarded. A beau- 
tiful watch, found in a hastily-vacated house, was returned 
to the owner, who was a lady, with the following note: — 

" Our soldiers love and admire women. We come not to 
plunder, but to protect, and to crush rebellion. My kindest 
regards." Signed, " A soldier of the Ninth Keg. Ind. Vols." 

The tidings of the affair of Philippi excited an interest in 
Indiana, as the first encounter, if encounter it could be called, 
with the Rebels, scarcely less intense than that produced later 
by the important battles of Stone River or Gettysburg, and 
penetrated with little delay to isolated farms and dwellings 
whither letters and newspapers seldom find their way. 

One day in June, a lady with her family was slowly as- 
cending one of those long, lonely hills which the .Blooming- 
ton road through Morgan County so often climbs, when she 
was accosted by a pale, sad-looking woman, who asked for a 
newspaper. " I have none," said the traveller; " but why do 
you want a paper? " " I want to read about the battle of 
Philippi," answered the anxious woman ; " I don't know the 
particulars yet, and I have two sons in the Seventh." 

The traveller immediately gave the stranger a seat in her 
carriage, and as they drove leisurely along, related all she 
knew of the battle and of the regiment. In return, the coun- 
try woman gave an account of her sons, how they were away 
from home at work on a neighbor's farm when the call for 
soldiers came. It was on a Saturday. The younger put his 


name down first. He was a good boy, but he was thought- 
less ; then, too, he had a weak chest, and who knew what 
he might have to bear of cold and hardship! So the elder, 
part for his country but part for his brother, enlisted too. He 
was twenty years old, steady and religious. She was not 
uneasy about him, nor about the younger either, for had n't 
he his brother to take care of him, and wasn't it in a good 
cause? They did not come home Saturday nor Sunday; 
she reckoned they could not tell her ; and they went away 
Monday without ever saying good-bye, — only in a letter 
which somebody brought her the same morning. From In- 
dianapolis they sent her their " profile " ; and they wrote 
another letter, which the mother repeated word for word, be 
ginning with the date, and ending with, " Yours till death." 

" I wander around these hills," she said, " day and night, 
thinking about my two boys, for they are all I have, and 
wondering if they will ever come home again." 

The travellers had now reached the woman's house, a little 
cabin, near a hazel thicket by the roadside, and they left her 
there ; but many a time since they have recalled the plain- 
tive voice and lonely wanderings of the soldiers' mother. 

General Morris hoped to atone for the escape of the Con- 
federate force from Philippi by resuming the pursuit, and 
continuing it until the enemy had either been defeated in 
battle, or driven beyond the mountains. But with a force 
of little more than six thousand, a large portion of which 
must guard the railroad and its two branches ; with insuffi- 
cient funds ; without quartermaster or commissary ; and 
under the necessity of giving a careful and impartial trial 
to numerous prisoners ; it was impossible for him to make 
any movement. Assured that the troops in Camp Dennison 
and Camp Morton were suffering from inactivity and disap- 
pointment, he requested reinforcements. General McClellan, 
embarrassed by the want of wagon-trains and by his want 
of confidence in undisciplined Volunteers, felt it impossible 
to comply. Morris therefore continued at Grafton, and did 
all that was possible under the circumstances. Mounted 
scouts, few in number, but active and efficient, scoured the 
country in search of Rebel citizens and spies. Captain Tripp, 


of the Sixth, headed a particularly efficient body of scouts. 
Forces of fifty or a hundred were frequently sent to disperse 
parties gathered for muster. Prisoners generally professed 
themselves willing to take the oath of allegiance ; and they 
received without compunction the forgiveness of the lenient 
Government. They were also often the recipients of simple 
and earnest instruction in regard to their duty. 

The Confederates were thoroughly dissatisfied with the 
inauguration of the campaign in West Virginia, but they 
saw with surprise and pleasure, and proceeded at once to 
take advantage of the enforced inactivity of the Federal 
troops. They brought reinforcements through the Cheat 
Mountain passes, and rapidly concentrated at Beverly and at 
Huttonville. In the Laurel Hill Range they built fortifications 
of great strength. The northern and principal, called Laurel 
Hill Camp, formed the head-quarters of General Garnett. 
The southern, under the command of Colonel Pegram, was 
established merely for the protection of Garnett's rear. The 
forest from one camp to the other, and stretching away 
along the mountains, was almost unbroken, and so dense 
that an army supplied with provisions might lie here months 
undiscovered. Even this wilderness was penetrated and its 
depths revealed by Morris's scouts : horsemen, where the 
thickets were accessible to horse ; footmen, through every 
glade and glen, in every copse, on every rock, scanning the 
enemy's strength from overhanging cliffs, listening to the talk 
of Rebel sentinels, and entering the very precincts of the 
Rebel camp. The following narrative illustrates, better than 
any description of a third party, the danger, daring, and toil 
incident to a scouting expedition. 



June 27th, a 'man was wanted who would visit the Rebel 
camp at Laurel Hill Mountain, to get the position and num- 
ber of the enemy, — also the fortifications, of which we had 
heard much from the country-people. I volunteered and was 
accepted by Colonel Dumont, then in command. I left head- 


quarters at nine p. m., with a rough but honest specimen of 
Virginia backwoodsman for a guide, De Hart Wilson by 
name. His father was then a prisoner for Union expressions. 
We were clad in the guise of farmers. Colonel Crittenden 
furnished us with horses as far as Buckhannon Bridge, where 
we were to leave them with our scouts who were out on 
that road. The moon was bright. At eleven, two hours 
after we started, we were halted at a little church by our 
scouts. We asked for an escort as far as the bridge, but the 
officer in command refused it, saying the bridge was full of 
Rebels. One of his men rode up and said, " Captain, I will 
go with them to the bridge, and bring back their horses." 
" All right. If you were not an independent, I would not 
let you go. But don't go beyond the bridge with the horses." 

The brave and kind offer of the stranger touched my heart. 
I had never before seen him. He had a well-worn hunting- 
shirt, belted about his waist with a raw-hide thong, from which 
hung a long duelling-pistol. An old felt hat, full of holes, 
was thrown on his head as if by chance, and seemed ready 
to fall off. His little black eye was sunken beneath a heavy 
eyebrow and a massive forehead. His black hair was cut 
short. His blacker moustache and beard were heavy, but 
neatly trimmed. Above all, his riding was peculiar, easy, and 
balanced as if he were part of his horse, and light and grace- 
ful as the swinging of a canary bird in the ring that hangs 
in its cage. He said not a word until we arrived at the 
long dark bridge. Here he stopped. " I am sorry ; but my 
orders. Look out, friends. Enemy near. Lose your heads." 

" Don't fear for us," said I, " the d — 1 take the hindmost!" 
" Good-bye ! God bless you ! " returned he. I felt queer at 
this from so rough-looking a man. "What's your name?" 
I asked. " Len' Clark," he answered, as he turned his horse 
toward Philippi. 

Wilson and I crossed the bridge, and hurriedly pursued our 
way along the road, occasionally stopping to listen for Rebel 
scouts, but not speaking a word. The moon still shone, 
lighting up the gloomy arches of the forest. After walking 
six miles, we left the road, and without pausing took a west- 
ern course through the wilderness. On we went, in pathless 



woods, through ravines tangled with azalea, whose perfume 
hung heavy on the midnight air; up the craggy mountain- 
side, saturated to the skin with cold dew; on through the 
laurel thicket, scaring the whippoorwill from his home ; over 
the mossy trunks of fallen forests ; down the steep bluffs ; 
wading cold streams ; on we went all night long. Near 
morning the guide hesitated, and at length acknowledged 
that we were out of our course. We threw ourselves down 
on the pine logs, and took an hour's rest. 

Just at daybreak we heard a cock crow, and following the 
direction of the shrill clarion, we found a little farm-house. 
We roused the frightened farmer, and Wilson inquired the 
direction to Coon Carpenter's. We learned the course and 
were off at full speed, for Coon Carpenter was a Union man, 
and it was necessary to reach his house before sunrise. In 
passing over a farm, two men saw us, and immediately hid 
themselves in the woods. The Rebel camp was within seven 
miles of us, and the people who professed Union sentiments 
were very shy, sleeping in the woods in the daytime, and 
only at night daring to come out of their mountain hiding- 
places to visit their families. Everybody was suspicious of 

We crossed the farm of an old Dutchman, by the name of 
Rohrbach, and, wanting further information, we concluded to 
make a halt at the rear of his cabin. Two half-black, half- 
yellow, half-starved Virginia 'coon dogs came at us. Their 
barking brought Mrs. Rohrbach to the door, where she took 
up a position she seemed inclined to keep, while she with 
frightened look surveyed us. She was six feet long, with an 
ugly, angular face, the color of putty. Her nose was long 
and tnin. Her mouth was like a gash in a frost-bitten 
squash ; flopping open, it revealed three long front teeth, 
blackened with smoke and calomel. On each temple were 
three little, flat, blue-colored curls, which seemed to have 
been made and put there under the pressure of a ton to the 
inch. She had no other hair or hairs on her head. A black 
clay pipe, with a long cane stem, was held tightly, upside- 
down, between her snags. Her eyes resembled two large 
pewter buttons, dipped in lard. Her frame was the only 


thing she retained of what may once have been a good-sized 
body. I describe Mrs. Rohrbach so minutely, because she is 
rather a type of a West Virginia wife at middle age. We 
asked for her husband ; she answered, interrogatively : " I 
reckon you don't want to hurt him ? " We didn't wish to 
hurt him. She pointed to a field with her long, bony finger, 
and there we soon found Rohrbach. He was a quiet old 
Dutchman, as ugly as his wife, whom, he said, he married 
for " use, not looks." It was now only half-past four in the 
morning, and he had been ploughing some four hours by moon- 
light, with his oldest boy. Two smaller tow-heads, dressed 
in dirty homespun shirts and ragged pants, were stationed on 
the fence at either end of the field, to tell the old man if any 
Rebels or strangers were approaching, when he would make 
tracks for the woods. 

After some conversation, in which we learned that the road 
to Carpenter's was scouted by the Rebels, and that they had 
been at his house last night, we proceeded with caution on 
our journey, and arrived within an hour at Coon Carpenter's. 
Coon lived five miles from his nearest neighbor. His farm is 
a specimen of the middle class of Virginia farms. It is a 
small opening in the forest, from which the trees have been 
" deadened," and is secluded from all the world. A few acres 
of Virginia wheat, a few of corn, and a tobacco patch, are 
surrounded by a rickety rail-fence, in the corners of which 
weeds most do flourish. Another space, fenced in and called 
the "Dead'nin," is used to pasture two or three old horses; 
one or two colts ; mane and tail matted with burs ; half a 
dozen sheep; and a cow. A few long, land-pike, blue pigs 
run at large. The cabin of Coon is, like all Virginia cabins, 
composed of rough logs, sticks, pins, and mud.* Inside are 
two huge feather beds, under which are a trundle-bed, boxes, 
and all the odds and ends of the establishment. The window 
(there is not always a window in these mountain cabins) is 
small ; the fireplace large. A gun-rack, made of antlers, is 
over the door. A shelf of rough boards supports the meagre 
store of blue or red china. 

* Many of the backwoods cabins are built without the use of iron fasten- 
ings, such as nails, screws, &c. 


Coon Carpenter and son are both Union men. Coon is tall, 
and about fifty years of age. His son much like him, and 
half his father in years. Both were barefooted, unwashed, 
homespun men. Not a member of the family can read or 
write, and no books or papers are seen about this primitive 
house. The boy calls the father " dad," and the man calls 
the boy " sonny." The mother and daughters are wild, shy 
people, say nothing, but stare suspiciously. Women never 
enter into conversation, in the company of strangers, and 
never sit at the table with them. 

We took breakfast, ham and ash-cakes, and after procuring 
some tobacco, completed our journey in another five mi]es, 
making a distance of thirty-five miles in ten hours, including 
the rests. We were now a mile and a half from the Rebel 
camp, at the house of Mr. Stephens, a good and remarkably 
shrewd Union man ; and Wilson left me to visit his mother, 
who lived some two miles north. Mrs. Stephens called her 
two little boys from the cornfield, and directed them to keep 
a sharp lookout. If they saw any one coming, they were to 
whistle, but not to run to the house. She sent two wild- 
looking girls to watch from a neighboring hill. They were 
to pretend to pick strawberries, and if they saw any of the 
Rebels coming over the river, they were ordered to walk slowly 
homeward. After these directions were given, I was shown 
to an old gum,* into which I crawled. Overcome with 
fatigue, I soon fell asleep. At three p. m. I awoke refreshed, 
but sore from my hard journey. My guide had not returned, 
neither had Stephens, who was hid in the woods ; so, after 
eating some corn-bread and wild honey, I started with a little 
boy seven years old as a guide to Wilsons house. We were 
obliged to keep in the woods, away from all paths, for fear 
of meeting strolling parties of Rebels. Such a thing as a 
wagon-road could not be found on that side of the Beverly 
pike. A slight fall of rain had made the leaves damp, and 
we could walk with less danger of attracting attention, which 
was important, as we were now within the line of the Rebel 
pickets. I noticed that my little guide broke twigs from the 

* A ~ecti m o:' a hollow tree, as large in circumference as a hogshead, but 
higher, used by country people to put grain in, or to stow away meat. 

OWLS. 41 

overhanging boughs to mark the way, so that on his return 
he might not get lost. He left me near the home of Wilson, 
which was a very good double log cabin. I climbed into a 
service-tree, and gave the signal we had agreed upon : three 
deep, hollow hoots like an owl. An answer came from the 
woods back of me. It was well for me that I did not ap- 
proach the house, for in it was a company of Rebel officers at 
dinner. Wilson had fled at their approach, and was hid in 
the woods, waiting their departure. 

It was growing late, and we went off through the valley 
to the east, and climbed a bluff on the banks of Valley River, 
from the top of w 4 Jiich I could look into the Rebel camp. I 
saw tents and horses and men, — men drilling, men working ; 
I saw rifle-pits and fortifications, on which I could distinguish 
guns mounted ; and I saw the flag, the stranger and traitor 
to my soil, flaunting freely in the mountain-breeze. Now, 
first, did I realize that war existed in my own country. 

My guide left me to make observations,- and to keep watch. 
He was to come back at sunset. The Rebel camp was 
perhaps five hundred yards in a direct line below and to 
the east. The rain caused a fog in the valley, and put an 
end to my observations for the night ; so I returned to the 
woods below, hooting occasionally, but getting no reply. It 
now began to rain very hard, and grew quite dark. I took 
shelter on the dry side of a leaning oak, not far from a bridle- 
path, and sat quietly listening to that lonesome mountain 
warbler, the wailing whippoorwill, whose notes send a pecu- 
liar thrill through the heart of the wandering scout. Soon 
I heard the tramp of a horse ; nearer, the occasional clank of 
a sabre ; nearer still, voices : " I say, Sergeant, this is a wild- 
goose chase. Hart Wilson left these parts more than a week 
ago." " We are in for a wetting to-night." " No danger of 
Yanks along these roads, anyhow." 

Soon the sounds grew indistinct and died away altogether 
in the valley below. Six Rebel horsemen had passed with- 
in ten steps of me. I feared they might find Wilson at 
home, for they hated and dreaded him ; and I renewed my 
hooting. No answer but the dropping rain on the thick 
roof of leaves overhead. I started off in the dark, forded the 


river up to my arms, and followed up a little creek till in 
full view of the smouldering camp-fires. I could hear the 
sentinels, relief-guards, whistling and laughing at the guard- 
house. I could see a light in the house, Mustoe's, which I 
supposed was used as a hospital. I was about to go nearer, 
when a sentinel passed me, yawned, and struck his musket 
on the ground. 

This trip cost me many hours, and brought me nothing; 
for although almost in among their tents, I could see noth- 
ing of importance, and it took me until daylight to get back 
to the cliff. In the early dawn I found my way to "Wilson's, 
and hooted him out. He invited me in, saying that he was 
hid near the house till two a. m. ; that from the action of his 
dogs he thought some one was watching him, but when day 
dawned he found the coast clear. I went in, took some 
breakfast, and was soon sound asleep ; but, for the first time 
in my life, in a cellar ! 

At nine a. m. I went once more to the bluff, climbed a 
tree, and made drawings of the camp and country. At half- 
past ten started with my guide to Coon Carpenter's, where 
we found that the Rebels were on our track. We also learned 
from a Rebel woman, who had been through the camp that 
morning, as she came from mill, that a train of a hundred 
wagons had started on the Moorefield road for corn. We 
made ourselves good Rebels to our informant, and she ap- 
pealed to us to confirm the news she was telling to Mrs. 
Coon and her daughters, evidently thinking we were just from 
camp. Coon was away: so was his son, — hid, I suppose. 

Wilson and I now started by a new route to Philippi, on 
the double-quick. Seeing Rebels on our road, we followed 
down the Valley River, frequently crossing it. The way 
was very rough. My clothing hung in tatters. My feet were 
very sore. When within six miles of camp, I procured a 
horse, and leaving Wilson, arrived in camp at ten p. m., and 
reported to Captain Benham, U. S. E., and General Morris, 
who had arrived the day before from Grafton. I was forty- 
eight hours on this trip, and marched over sixtyrfive miles, 
with little sleep and food. 

General Morris sent Major Gordon with despatches, and 



me to report in person, to the Commanding General at Buck- 
hannon. We started with an escort of six, led by the man 
who had taken my horse, and bidden me God-speed at the 
bridge, — Len' Clark, with his deep, intelligent eye peering 
from beneath his ragged hat. "We arrived at Buckhannon 
without accident, just as the Major-General, with his splendid 
troops, was entering. Colonel Lander received the despatches 

for General McClellan, and, while we were eating dinner 
at the hotel, came for me. We rode to a fine undulating 
plain, south of the town, where head-quarters were situated, 
and I was introduced to the little General. He was dressed 
in a fatigue-cap, a loose blouse, without marks of office, and 
light-blue pants. He was covered with dust, and was sitting 
at a little camp-table, on which was a topographical map 
of Virginia. He looked at me from head to foot before he 


spoke ; then asked every particular in regard to my visit to 
the Rebel camp, the names of persons whom I met, the route, 
the hills, trees, streams, &c. I drew for him on a sheet of 
paper a map of the Confederate camp.* 

After I had left the General's tent, a brisk, pleasant little 
man began talking with me, and seemed very much interested 
in all I had to say. I supposed him to be a quartermaster, 
but Col. Lander coming up introduced me to Gen. Rosecrans. 
— Here for the present ends the narrative of the Scout. 

General McClellan had assumed command in person in 
"West Virginia on Jane 21st. His head-quarters were first 
at the venerable and sleepy town of Clarksburg, but removed 
in a few days to Buckhannon, with the intention of advan- 
cing from this point to the rear of the fortifications on Laurel 
Mountains, at the western base of which the village of Buck- 
hannon lies. 

The Eighth and Tenth regiments, the former from the 
eastern, the latter from the western counties of Indiana, 
after two months in camp, left Indianapolis the 19th of June 
to repair to West Virginia. The train containing the Eighth 
stopped at North Bend, on the Ohio, and the aged widow of 
the brave old warrior and true-hearted President, whose name 
is dear to the nation, most dear to the West, advanced to 
the roadside to meet her grandson, Irwin Harrison, the ad- 
jutant of the regiment. As the young man bent before the 
frail, bowed woman, while with trembling voice she invoked 
heaven's richest blessings upon him, and upon all her coun- 
try's defenders, it almost seemed that the dead lips of a 
buried generation said, Amen ! 

The cars were crowded and uncomfortable, but the enthu- 
siasm of the people, and the beauty of the scenery in Vir- 
ginia, — where men were reaping barley and ploughing corn by 
the roadside and on the hill-sides, and where long and high 
bridges, tunnels, grades, valleys, and mountains form a suc- 
cession of picturesque landscapes, — more than compensated. 
The troops reached Clarksburg at six in the evening, and 
encamped in the rear of the town, in an almost impregnable 

* See preceding page. 


position, on a bold hill which commands a circuit of three 

There was a rumor afloat that Governor Wise, with an 
army somewhere between ten and fifty thousand strong, 
was approaching, and the newly arrived regiments were 
roused at two in the morning to work upon fortifications. 
In eight hours a breastwork from four to six feet high was 
thrown up on the north, east, and south sides, and a half 
acre of timber felled on the west. But instead of Governor 
Wise came a despatch from McClellan the next day, order- 
ins: an immediate march to Buckhannon. Tents had not 
yet arrived, but in a half-hour the troops were on their way. 
That night and the next they lay on the ground in the 
drenching rain, without any kind of shelter, and received 
thus their introduction into the hardships of the soldier's 
life, and their first lesson in the art of grumbling, — the sol- 
dier's peculiar and inalienable prerogative. An army, num- 
bering twelve thousand, was now assembled at Buckhannon, 
and preparations for a speedy attack were unceasing and 

Meanwhile, the policy of forbearance was adhered to with 
undeviating resolution. The case of Symmes, the man who 
shot Colonel Kelley at Philippi, is but a fair example. Colo- 
nel Lander struck up the weapons pointed at him by the 
enraged Virginians of Kelley 's command, and thus saved 
his life. He was allowed to board at the best hotel in Graf- 
ton, and to be quite unmolested in the enjoyment of a 
slightly circumscribed freedom. Avowed and active seces- 
sionists, even spies, were repeatedly released with no secu- 
rity for the future. In return, the most murderous and sav- 
age warfare was kept up by the enemy. Every forest, gorge, 
and thicket teemed with lurking foes, who fired without a 




The Sixth, Seventh, and Ninth, with the associated Ohio 
and Virginia regiments, lay five weeks at Philippi and along 
the road to Grafton, idly waiting, while the Rebel troops con- 
tinued industriously to fortify. The impatience of the sol- 
diers in the preparatory camps was slight in comparison with 
the impatience of the troops now in the field. They burned 
with desire for action. They raged against McClellan, be- 
cause he was weeks at Cincinnati, weeks at Clarksburg, and 
weeks at Buckhannon, and because his orders were always, 
to ivait. But one day, as fretting and fuming they were scat- 
tered through the shady grove in which they were encamped, 
they heard the sound of firing in the direction of the enemy, 
whose outposts were at the little village of Bealington. At 
first, here and there ; then, thicker and faster. " The Rebels 
are on us ! " " The Rebels are on us ! " A cry of joy, a rush 
to arms, a call to order, and almost instantaneously the line 
of battle was formed. There was Morris, calm and grave 
as usual ; Love, all animation ; Milroy, his eyes shooting fire ; 
Dumont, haggard and ghastly, his uniform put on him by 
unwilling physicians, tottering to his horse, but now sitting 
firmly, steadily surveying his command, and saying with 
spirit : " Let them come ; we are ready ! " Virginia and 
Ohio were ready, too. But where was Crittenden ? "Where 
was the gallant Sixth ? Surely the sound of firing ought 
to rouse them from the sleep of death! As the question 
ran from man to man, a reconnoitring party sent out by the 
General returned with the information that Colonel Critten- 
den's regiment was drilling on the Bealington road, and at 
this moment was engaged in a mimic battle. Deep as had 
always been the disgust of the loyal troops towards the 
Rebels, it never was so intense as at this moment, when, 
chagrined and crestfallen, they dispersed to their tents. 


At this time, and indeed during the whole year in "West 
Virginia, men were seldom or never detailed for a hazardous 
duty, unless volunteers were so numerous it was necessary to 
restrict the number. When a party was ordered to the execu- 
tion of some undertaking, it was not unusual to find in the 
ranks double the proper number, — to find Company A, for 
instance, counting two hundred instead of one, and each man 
of the two hundred bearing in his countenance, if not on his 
tongue, an assertion that he was in his proper place. 

Colonel Dumont was ill during the greater part of the stay 
at Philippi, — so ill that at one time alarm was felt, and his 
officers urged him to be removed to Grafton, where he could 
be comfortably accommodated. Stretched out on his camp- 
cot, with no luxury, not even a comfort about him, the suffer- 
ing man replied : " No, never ! When my boys get sick they 
lie here, and, if it must be, die at their posts. They don't get 
off, and I won't go, either." 

July 6th, the President's Message was received, and the 
hearts of the Volunteers, as by the light of the setting sun 
they read that manly, honest document, responded to the 
great heart which throbbed in the breast of the ruler and 
leader of the nation. That night, when they wrapped them- 
selves 4n their blankets, and lay down on their hard beds, 
within them glowed the purpose and the enthusiasm which 
lofty thoughts kindle, and which make the soldier's pallet 
nobler than the king's couch. 

Before many hours, the sleeping camp was aroused, and 
midnight saw the long hoped-for march to Laurel Hill begin. 
The Ninth, preceded and flanked by skirmishers, formed the 
van. In order followed the Fourteenth Ohio, Cleveland 
Artillery, First Virginia, Seventh Indiana, Body- Guard, 
General and staff, three companies of the Sixteenth Ohio, 
Sixth Indiana, and Guthrie Grays, — about five thousand in 
all. Not a word was spoken, except of command, and not a 
sound broke the silence of the night, but the rumbling of 
wheels, and the steady, rapid tramp, tramp, of the troops. As 
the thousands of glimmering camp-fires died away in the 
distance, a misty moonlight half revealed and half concealed 
the dangers of the winding road, the threatening forests, the 


frowning rocks, and the ravines and gorges in which a thou- 
sand men might hide. Day lighted up the shaggy woods, 
and rugged cliffs, and discovered the blushing laurel and the 
bright azalea. Vigilance did not relax. The woods were 
scoured, the rocks explored, the army halted, while the treach- 
erous turns of the crooked road were examined. The moun- 
tain farms were deserted, the houses closed, and no signs of 
life were visible, except now and then an anxious face peering 
through a curtained window. About half-past seven the 
enemy's pickets first seemed aware of the approach of our 
troops. They fired, but immediately fled. Just as the last 
were driven in, our army came in full view of the position to 
be occupied. In less than an hour it was successfully dis- 
posed on heights, which hemmed in the enemy, and General 
Morris had established his head-quarters in the house of 
Elliott, a noted Secessionist, who looked on with trembling 
rage, while the Stars and Stripes were placed above his un- 
worthy door. In this prefatory skirmish, a private in the 
Ninth, William T. Girard, was killed. 

Garnett's camp was hidden by two conical eminences, 
which, being densely wooded, furnished a fine cover for skir- 
mishing purposes. It extended over about a hundred and 
fifty acres, and had a fine position, with a mountain wall 
behind it as a background and a shelter. General McClellan 
had already advanced from Buckhannon, and he issued orders 
to Morris, by all means to avoid an engagement, until the 
heavy column should appear in the rear. Whatever General 
Morris's long-tried patience, his troops had no inclination to 
employ themselves in the culture of a passive virtue, and 
they engaged in skirmishing with a zeal that threatened to 
anticipate McClellan's movements. Feats were daily per- 
formed, which, years from now, when veterans repeat tales of 
their youth to eager listeners, will thrill many a shuddering 

Sylvester Brown, a tall private of the Sixth, in the face of 
six Rebels, who were behind an earthwork of rude construction, 
carried from a tree, where they had been cooking and resting, 
a quantity of blankets and some cooking-utensils, Placing 
them safely, he returned ; but, as he was again carrying a 


parcel of blankets away, the Rebels stood up, took deliberate 
aim, and tired. He Avheeled around, fired with steady hand, 
and stepping proudly and firmly as on dress-parade, reached 
his comrades, who surrounded him with offers of assistance. 
" I am shot," he said, " but the cowards don't know it ! " and 
he would not be moved down to the hospital, lest they 
should see that he was wounded. 

West of the Staunton turnpike, and not far from the Rebel 
works, was an old field, with here and there a clump of black- 
berries, a group of dead trees, or a pile of logs. On the east 
was a dense wood, with an undergrowth of laurel. One day 
field and wood were alive with skirmishers. In the wood the 
Rebels were comparatively safe, but our soldiers in the field 
must creep stealthily from log to tree, and from tree to bush, 
take aim with keen glance and rapid hand. A youth, with 
delicate face and form and light curling hair, lay behind a log 
near the road. He had in his hand a revolver, which he had 
taken from a dead Rebel officer the day before. Restless and 
impatient, he determined to cross the road and penetrate the 
tlangerous wood. With swift step he put the thought into 
execution, cleared the road, hid in the thicket. A few min- 
utes, and two shots were fired; then on the evening" air rose 
a scream, so awful that no man who heard it will forget it 
to his dying day. Mortal agony was in that shrill cry. The 
skirmishers in the field sprang to their feet, and drew in- 
stantly together. The hasty and perilous resolve was made 
to dash into the wood. In the laurel, a few steps from the 
road, they found the bleeding, lifeless body of the reckless 
boy. He was John Auten, of the Ninth. 

The hill known as Girard Hill, was taken from a regiment 
of Georgians, by fifteen privates without any officers. In 
the attack, two soldiers, Bierce and Boothroyd, advanced 
within fifteen paces of the enemy's fortifications, and here 
Boothroyd received a wound in the neck, which paralyzed 
him. His comrade immediately caught him in his arms and 
carried him and his gun full twenty rods, bullets falling around 
them at every step. 

In the afternoon of the 10th of July, two large bodies of 
troops were seen from a high hill in the neighborhood, leaving 


the Rebel camp. Instant preparations were made to meet 
them, and in less than two hours the Fourteenth Ohio and 
Ninth Indiana were actively engaged with twelve hundred 
Georgians. The Rebels came forward under cover of the 
woods, holding their cavalry ready to charge whenever our 
men should attempt to move in anything like military order. 
Suddenly the Federals advanced, and poured in a sharp volley. 
The Rebel cavalry, taking advantage of the movement, pro- 
ceeded to take them in flank. The Federals rapidly retreated, 
and, as they retreated, threw out a couple of shells. In their 
turn, the Confederates drew back, shouting, " Now, give it to 
them ! " and springing forward at the same time, the Federals 
poured in another volley. The enemy wavered and fell fur- 
ther back, but recovered in a moment and dashed forward. 

" Rally to your logs ! " was now the cry of the Federals, 
and back they fled behind trees and logs and blackberry 
bushes. Shells were again thrown among the assailants, and 
again they fled to their sheltering woods. The Ohio and In- 
diana boys broke cover, and forward- they dashed once more. 
Further, further they went until Milroy, who had charge of a 
gun, sprang upon a log and shouted, waving his hat, " Fall 
back, boys ! We 're going to fire another shell ! " He stood 
several minutes, his head inclined, listening intently. At 
length through the tumult he distinguished the shout from his 
boys : " Fire more to the right ! " The enemy scattered be- 
fore this well-directed shell, and could not again be rallied. 

"What troops are you?" it is said a Georgian shouted 
from behind a tree before any shells were thrown. " Ohio 
and Indiana Volunteers," was shouted in reply. " Can't 
make me believe that," called out the Georgian. " You 
need n't tell me that Volunteers stand fire that way." He was 
probably convinced they were Volunteers when he heard them, 
if through the din he could hear, singing out their own 
orders : " Now give it to them ! " " Rally to your logs ! " 
and the like. 

John R. Smith, a young, brave fellow, who had walked 
thirty miles to volunteer, fell in this skirmish. 

Milroy's men, like their leader, were madly in love with 
danger. It is said that one of them took a newspaper, and 


marching up the road at the foot of the hill, asked the Rebels if 
they would n't like to hear the news. " Yes ! " they shouted. 
He unfolded his paper and began : " Great battle at Manas- 
sas Gap : one thousand Rebels killed ; ten thousand wounded ; 
nearly all the rest taken prisoners. All traitors to be hung, 
and their property confiscated." Here the bullets began to 
hail around him, and he beat a retreat. 

It was almost impossible to restrain our men from making 
an assault that night. They had no longer expectation or 
hope of hearing the booming of McClellan's guns the other 
side of Laurel Hill. The next day they were early on the 
alert, eager at every point for skirmishing ; but the enemy 
could not be induced to show himself. Not a gun was seen 
or heard, while the blows of the axe and the crash of falling 
timber never ceased. It was surmised that General Garnett 
had determined to make a last stand here, and was strength- 
ening his intrenchments. Early the following morning, a 
horseman, without saddle, whip, or spurs, beating his horse 
on with his sword, came galloping to head-quarters, and an- 
nounced that the Rebels had evacuated. 

Intelligence so contrary to expectation and so disagreea- 
ble was received with suspicion, and General Morris ordered 
three officers, Captain Benham, Sergeant- Major Gordon, and 
Dr. Fletcher, with a company, to inspect. He also sent orders 
to Colonels Dumont and Milroy to march without a mo- 
ment's delay to the enemy's camp. In five minutes both 
regiments were on the march. Along the smooth mountain 
road, past the blackberry field, and around the wooded knoll, 
they went, expecting to meet an open, or to hear an am- 
bushed foe. Uninformed of the reported evacuation, their 
surprise and suspicion increased with every step. Not with 
fear, but with some trepidation, they looked towards a turn in 
the road before them, which might expose them to the raking 
fire of the enemy's cannon; but instead of bristling guns, 
the turn revealed a long line of unmanned intrenchments, 
silent batteries, and deserted tents. 

" Where are General Garnett and his men ? " asked Dr. 
Fletcher, who was first to cross the Rebel intrenchments, 
of a frightened woman in a solitary house. " They 's done 
gone," she said. 


He went into an old log house on Mustoe's farm, and 
found some eight or ten wounded Rebels. They handed 
him a note addressed to " Any officer of the U. S.," asking 
that mercy be shown to these wounded men. The men 
themselves begged him not to have them hung! 

The Seventh and Ninth were joined at the camp by two 
companies of Ohio artillery, under Colonel Barnett, and pushed 
forward on the road to Beverly. It was now evident that 
the felling of trees, the day before supposed to be for the 
purpose of strengthening the intrenchments, was the work 
of the rear-guard, to delay pursuit. The road was blocked 
up with every possible obstacle, and strewed with the effects 
of the Rebels. The pursuit was continued ten miles, without 
further interruption than was necessary to drag trees out of 
the road ; but at Leeds Creek was brought to an abrupt halt, 
by the want of a bridge, which the Rebels had broken up. 
While the bridge was undergoing repairs, a foraging party 
was sent out to obtain food from the neighboring farmers ; 
but it returned with such a scanty supply, that even after 
one or two provision-wagons came up, many a man was 
unable to obtain a morsel. Near night the Fourteenth Ohio 
arrived. The advance was commanded by Captain Ben- 
ham, U. S. E., one of those unfortunate individuals who have 
a peculiar facility for winning dislike ; but not hunger, fa- 
tigue, nor Benham could cool the ardor of the troops, and 
they lay down on the ground to sleep with the utmost sat- 

General Morris arrived at Leeds Creek some time after 
dark, and was led among the sleeping forms of tired soldiers 
to an old log house, in which Captain Benham directed him 
by his voice, as no light could be obtained. The members 
of the staff lay on the ground, with the other soldiers, and 
endured a pelting rain. 

Meantime events were occurring at Rich Mountain, which 
changed the course of the retreat, and consequently of the 
pursuit. At three o'clock on the morning of the 12th, the 
same morning Morris started in pursuit of Garnet t, General 
Rosecrans, with the Eighth, Tenth, Thirteenth Indiana, and 
Nineteenth Ohio, left McClellan's camp west of Rich Moun- 


tain, and proceeded along the line of hills southeast of the 
enemy's intrenchments, with the purpose of entering the Bev- 
erly road on the mountain-top, and of attacking the camp 
from the east. General McClellan was to assault the west 
as soon as the firing should announce the Commencement 
of the attack^ 

General Rosecrans occupied about nine hours in cutting 
his way through the woods, climbing the rocks, logs, and 
stumps, and wading the streams. The guide was David 
Hart, whose father's farm was on the top of the mountain, 
and who had escaped from the Rebels by this route. Colonel 
Lander, who had spent the greater part of his life in explor- 
ing and engineering expeditions in the far West, and whose 
experience in military, mountain, backwoods, and every va- 
riety of wild, adventurous, and exposed life, was unusual, 
accompanied the guide, and declared the difficulties of the 
march unequalled. The bushes were wet, the air was ex- 
cessively cold and full of rain ; and rain began to fall in 
the course of the morning. About noon they reached the 
top of the mountain, but instead of descending and "quietly 
taking possession of the Rebel rear, according to the plan, they 
were here saluted by a volley from Rebel pickets, whose attack 
was followed by cannon ; and they found themselves in the 
presence of a large body of the enemy. A courier, sent by 
McClellan to Rosecrans, had taken the broad Beverly road 
which led directly through the Confederate camp, and had 
of course been obliged to give up his despatches. In con- 
sequence, a body of twenty-five hundred men, with three can- 
non, had been sent to the top of the mountain, and had there 
thrown up hastily some intrenchments. 

Rosecrans made an attempt to form his command into 
line, but it was found impossible, on account of the irregu- 
larities of the position ; the troops were therefore ordered to 
advance at intervals and fire; then throw themselves on the 
ground. The Confederates fired steadily and rapidly, but the 
screen of bushes prevented their taking correct aim, and they 
fired generally too low. General Rosecrans attempted again 
to form the troops into line, and after much difficulty, result- 
ing partly from the nature of the ground, partly from the rain 


which was now pouring down, and partly from the eagerness 
of the men to rush pell-mell into battle, he finally succeeded. 
The Eighth was ordered to take the right, the Tenth the 
centre, one half of the Thirteenth (the other half had been sta- 
tioned at the forks of a road in the rear, with instructions to 
hold the point at all hazards) the left. The Ohio regiment was 
the reserve. The Thirteenth immediately advanced some dis- 
tance to the left and down the hill, to flank the enemy. While 
directing its movements, Colonel Sullivan suddenly found him- 
self face to face with a Rebel of immense size. The Colonel 
raised his sword and the Rebel his rifle. The sword bent and 
the rifle missed, but the Colonel's face was burned with the 
flash ; and if one of his soldiers had not seen his danger, 
shoved him aside, and brought the Rebel to the ground, 
his first battle would probably have been his last. Some 
delay was occasioned by the Tenth, under a misapprehen- 
sion of orders, taking the right. It marched down to with- 
in three hundred yards of the enemy, and engaged him hotly 
for thirty minutes, unassisted by the Eighth, which, the mis- 
take having been discovered, was ordered to face about and 
march to the right. Both regiments showed great steadi- 
ness in march, countermarch, and actual battle. 

At length the three regiments fell back, and the reserve was 
ordered forward. It advanced to a fence in line with the 
breastworks, fked one round, then gave three cheers to the 
Indiana boys, who fixed their bayonets with a clang which 
resounded along the lines, and rushed forward to charge 
bayonets. One man alone of the enemy stood his ground. 
He coolly touched the match to his cannon, at the same 
moment received a ball in his heart, and fell dead. 

A general race now followed, so exciting that our men 
were with difficulty recalled and reformed in line of battle, 
to receive the enemy from the foot of the mountain. But 
instead of following up the attack, the Confederates, as well 
in the camp as on the top of the mountain, thought all was 
lost, and sought safety in the woods, leaving their works, 
tents, stores, cannon, and indeed all they had. The engage- 
ment lasted over an hour. On the battle-field was found a 
sword, inscribed with the testimony of the gratitude of the 


State of Virginia to Midshipman Taylor, for his valorous 
defence, on two occasions, of a United States frigate. 

General Rosecrans was very conspicuous in this battle. He 
was as cool and skilful as he was brave, and no higher praise 
of his bravery can be given than to say it equalled that of his 
men. They were all as brave as lions, but inclined to be 
regardless of orders, unless accompanied by a rap with the 
flat side of the sword. Even wounds did not quench or cool 
their ardor; more than one man with a disabled leg crawled 
to a stone and loaded for a comrade, or himself continued 
firing. The only banner in the engagement was that of the 
Eighth, the motto of which was : " Above us or around us." 

The next day, after thirty-six hours' wandering in the woods 
through rain and mud, without rest and without food, Colonel 
Pegram and about six hundred of his command surrendered 
themselves prisoners of war. They formed a melancholy 
procession. Colonel Pegram wore an expression of the deep- 
est sadness, and the forlorn young faces of many students 
from Hampden Sydney College appealed to the hearts of the 
victors. The captain of the students' was one of their pro- 
fessors. Did he feel shame, or is that last safeguard of the 
soul lost to the traitor ? 

On the day of Pegram's surrender, General Garnett was 
within three miles of Beverly, on his way either to unite his 
force — which at the outset of his retreat numbered five thou- 
sand, — with that of Pegram, and then to give battle, or to 
proceed for greater security to the fastnesses of the Cheat 
Mountains. When he received the unwelcome intelligence, 
he turned and retraced his march to Leeds Creek, from which 
point a mountain-road leads northeast through the little town 
of New Interest, to St. George, Tucker County. He entered 
this road early in the morning. The rain fell and continued 
to fall in torrents, making a deep, sticky mud of the clay soil, 
which the feet of the fugitives worked thin, and left rolling 
down the hills after them in sluggish streams. Proofs of their 


fatigue and of the lessening distance between them and their 
pursuers became more and more numerous to the latter. 
Knapsacks, trunks, clothes, beds, cards, everything that could 
be thrown away, marked the route. Rebel axes forming bar- 


ricades,. and loyal axes, clearing away obstructions, answered 
to each other. Rebel pickets protecting laborers were driven in. 
A P^ebel banner was taken, and borne back along the whole line. 
Every step increased the exhilaration of the National troops. 
As they waded a rocky, roaring stream, some freak of mem- 
ory suggested the singularly spirited old hymn : " On Jordan's 
stormy banks I stand." A thousand voices joined, and hill, 
and wood, and rock echoed and reechoed the exalted strain. 

The Cheat River, an exceedingly crooked and rapid stream, 
crossing the road repeatedly, and always difficult of passage, 
delayed the enemy. At the first ford, Captain Benham dis- 
covered the baggage-train at rest. He proposed an attack 
as soon as Barnett's artillery and Dumont's regiment should 
have come up; but the thoughtless firing of a musket gave 
warning, and set the train in motion. At the second ford, the 
Confederates were found to have left a few skirmishers. The 
advance opened a brisk fire, and cleared the adjacent wood. 
At the third ford, Carrick's, the rear of the wagon-train was 
standing. ." Don't shoot," cried the teamsters, " we're going 
to surrender ! " 

The river at this point runs between a precipitous bluff of 
some fifty to eighty feet on the right, and low meadows on 
the left. The road on the left passes between the meadow- 
ground and the river, parallel to the river. The Confederates 
were strongly posted on the high bank, and hidden from view 
by a rail-fence and a tangled thicket of laurel. 

As the Fourteenth Ohio advanced, a blaze of fire lighted 
up the bank and revealed the ambuscade. The Fourteenth 
halted, and, without a change of position, returned the fire. 
Barnett's artillery and the Ninth Indiana hastened to its sup- 
port. The latter, being on the left, was obliged to fire ob- 
licmely, although the men crowded together, and next to the 
Fourteenth were thirty deep. The firing on both sides was 
rapid and fierce. Garnett's men aimed too high, and did 
little execution. Colonel Dumont, approaching through the 
meadow, (he had avoided the road on account of the mud,) 
heard the. firing and ordered his men to advance on the run. 
He was met by a command from Captain Benham to cross 
the river three hundred yards above the ford, climb the hill, 


and attack the enemy in the rear. Without stopping, Colonel 
Dumont dashed straight through the river, dismounted, and 
climbed the hill by the aid of bushes and ledges of rock, 
which it was necessary to grasp at almost every step. Man 
by man, one company, two companies, almost three com- 
panies, followed, and reached the top, when an order was re- 
ceived to bring back the men, and to charge the enemy at the 
ford and at the guns. Unfortunately, Captain Benham had 
been told that the ascent of the bluff, except at the ford, was 
impracticable. His first order, had it not been countermanded, 
would certainly have resulted in the capture of a large por- 
tion, if not the main body of the enemy, without further 
pursuit or fighting. 

Not a foot of ground lay between the river and the almost 
perpendicular bank. The river-bed was covered with loose 
rolling boulders. The current was rapid. The water in 
many places was waist-deep. Artillery was firing from each 
side. As might be expected under such circumstances, the 
passage from one point to the other was rapidly made. Guns 
and ammunition, held at arm's length, were kept dry. 

Not until Dumont reached the road and appeared on his 
right, did the enemy turn to fly. A running fight ensued, 
and was continued to the fourth and last ford. Here again 
the enemy endeavored to rally. Through the tumult rose 
the clear, loud voice of General Garnett, cheering and urg- 
ing his men to stand. In vain ; and he stood with raised 
hand appealing to them, a single Georgian youth by his side, 
when a ball entered his back, and he fell. At the same mo- 
ment fell his companion. They lay together, the General 
in his gorgeous Southern uniform, and the boy in his rustic 
butternut, when our advance approached, both dying. Colo- 
nel Dumont's pitying heart yearned towards the fallen Gar- 
nett, and he requested Gordon, who was always at the point 
of danger, to stay and guard the body. Gordon obeyed. He 
closed the eyes, tied up the chin, and straightened the stif- 
fening limbs. No true and loyal man was ever more honor- 
ably cared for than this disloyal General. He fell strangely, 
in the rear of his flying army, ana deserted by his own troops. 
Perhaps he was the victim of mortification and despair. 


The sense of honor in the Southern gentleman is keener than 
the sense of right, and while it arms a man with daring cour- 
age, robs him of the nobler qualities of patience and fortitude. 
It impels him to rush on death rather than bear defeat. 

Our soldiers buried the Georgian boy with gentle and 
respectful hands. The honor they showed him was no con- 
ventional thing. 

In consideration of the exhausted condition of his troops, 
who had marched, almost entirely without food, twenty-seven 
miles, eighteen of which had been over a frightful mountain 
road, and in a pitiless rain, General Morris reluctantly ordered 
the pursuit to be abandoned. Colonel Milroy, however, like 
a man running down-hill, could not check himself short of 
two miles further. The closing sentence of an address which 
the General issued the next day, is : " Your cheerful endurance 
of the privations you have undergone, and are now undergo- 
ing, from the necessarily scanty supply of provisions, and the 
hardships of the march of yesterday over roads almost impas- 
sable, and through the storm of rain and battle, is — in the 
language of the immediate commander of the advance col- 
umn, Captain Benham — most heroic, beyond all praise of 
mine, and such as your country only can fully appreciate and 

About forty wagons and teams were captured in the pur- 
suit, also the colors of every regiment engaged. A Georgia 
banner was inscribed with the favorite Southern maxim, 
" Cotton is King." Eighteen or twenty were killed, and sixty- 
three prisoners were taken. Of Morris's army, two were 
killed and six wounded. The bluff on which the Rebel 
dead lay, was a ghastly sight, and blanched the cheek of 
the sturdiest. 

The prisoners were not guarded, and were treated with 
cordial good-nature. Yet our men could not restrain their 
curiosity in regard to the desertion of Garnett, nor tire of 
asserting that they would stand by Moms to the last. 
Among the prisoners was a surgeon by the name of Car- 
rington. He was captured under a stable, but, even in this 
trying situation, did not lose his self-possession. He intro- 
duced himself as a member of one of the first Virginia 


families, happily unconscious that to the rude Hoosier the 
proud initials F. F. V. signified only fleet-footed Virginian. 
He also announced himself a descendant of Pocahontas, a 
fourth cousin of Mrs. General Scott, and an acquaintance of 
General McClellan. Not at all abashed by the mingled 
amusement and 'surprise in the faces of the gentlemen he 
addressed, he proceeded to accuse one of our surgeons 
of stealing a case of instruments, and threatened to report 
him to General McClellan. Later, he actually did report 
Federal officers to McClellan, and McClellan actually /lid 
arrest Federal officers on the word of this braggart. 

According to General McClellan's report, the national loss 
on the two days, July 12th and 13th, was thirteen killed and 
about forty wounded. The loss of the Rebels was not far 
from two hundred killed and wounded, one thousand taken 
prisoners, all the baggage, and seven guns. 

In the retreat the Rebel army was more fatigued and dis- 
pirited, but in every other respect had the advantage. The 
lowest number of the enemy engaged at Carrick's Ford was 
four thousand, while only eighteen hundred of the Union 
troops were up in time to take a part. Where Garnett was 
killed, but six hundred were engaged ; they were members 
of the Seventh. 

An article, in a heavy army-chest captured, excited some 
surprise. It was one of our bomb-shells. The prisoners said 
it fell, the day before the evacuation, about twenty feet from 
General Garnett's marquee, but failed to explode. The Gen- 
eral considered his escape so narrow, that he extracted the 
fuse and preserved the shell as a memento. 

The camp-equipage of the Rebels showed long prepa- 
ration and lavish expenditure. The tents were the best Sib- 
ley; the blankets, cots, litters, of which they had hundreds, 
bandages, and surgeons' stores, were all of the finest quality; 
while the meagreness of the National tents, the coarseness 
of the blankets, the scanty supply of all kinds of utensils, 
the entire want of litters, and even of bandages, witnessed 
to the haste with which the National troops had been col- 
lected, and the unprepared state of the country. The con- 
trast was significant and painful. 


At St. George, to which place he proceeded next day, 
General Morris received orders to return to Laurel Hill. 
General Hill, who was at Grafton with fresh troops, was di- 
rected by the Major-General to intercept the enemy. Though 
without a leader, and dispirited and fatigued to the last 
degree, the Rebels eluded Hill and effected their escape. 

The march of Morris's troops back to Garnett's old quarters 
was followed by a stay long enough to insure the destruc- 
tion of the fortifications. The Eighth and Tenth, which had 
accompanied McClellan in his pursuit of Pegram to Bev- 
erly, assisted at the work. Then the veterans of the three 
months' campaign turned their faces homeward. 




The Eleventh was the first regiment ready to march. It 
was trained by Lewis Wallace in the style of Napoleon's 
Zouaves, and it adopted the name which those fierce Alge- 
rines and their French successors have rendered a synonym of 
victory. Perhaps three fourths of the men were from Indian- 
apolis and its vicinity. They were generally youths, high- 
spirited, generous, and intelligent, eager to win renown, and 
scornful of danger. 

On the 8th of May they assembled in State House Square 
to receive two banners from the ladies of Terre Haute and 
Indianapolis. Tall, erect, in the bloom and vigor of young 
manhood, and glowing with enthusiasm, their appearance 
would have been striking without the aid of the showy for- 
eign uniform. Colonel Wallace, who might be called the 
type of the regiment, received the banners, and turning to the 
soldiers, said, "Boys, will you ever desert these banners?" 
"Never! never!" shouted every man. Wallace then spoke 
of the disgrace cast upon Indiana by the alleged cowardice 
of our troops at Buena- Vista. " Let us adopt for our motto," 
he continued, "Remember Buena -Vista ! " "We'll adopt 
it!" responded the regiment. "Then get down on your 
knees and swear that you will remember Buena- Vista, and 
that you will never desert your regimental colors ! " The regi- 
ment kneeled, and with uplifted hand swore to stand by their 
flag and to remember Buena- Vista. 

By a coincidence worthy of note, the same watchword was 
recommended to the South, through " The Memphis Appeal," 
one of its leading journals, in the following words: "If the 
great body of McClellan's forces be Hoosiers and Buckeyes, 
as reported, the number of our men need give the depart- 
ment little concern. TJiese fellows wonH fight ! We have 


history for this. Remember Buena-Vis'ta ! 'One to four, our 
boys will drive them into the lakes." * 

The 1st of May, the Zouaves were ordered to Evansville. 

* The statement already made, that Jeff. Davis is responsible for the un- 
fortunate reputation of the 2d Indiana, is based upon an assertion of Gen- 
eral Lewis Wallace. The following note, written by himself, gives his reasons 
for the assertion : — 

" According to history, General Taylor is responsible for the charge against 
our troops at Buena- Vista. As usual, however, his report was based on the 
statements, official and other, of subordinate officers, to whose conduct, sup- 
pressed and generally forgotten, my charge against Jeff. Davis is traceable. 

" About two weeks after the battle, I had occasion to go to Saltillo. The 
controversy about the 2d Regiment was very warm. Being Hoosier-born, it 
was natural for me to take interest in it ; and the conclusion I came to is reli- 
able exactly in proportion to the reliability of the information it is founded 

" According to that information, the story of misconduct proceeded origi- 
nally from General Jo. Lane and Jeff. Davis. A Court of Inquiry satisfied 
the former that he was mistaken, not in the fact that a large portion of the 
regiment retreated in disorder, but in his belief that it had no authority for 
retreating. The testimony is said to have developed (and it is now my recol- 
lection that such was the finding of the Court) that Colonel Bowles had 
ordered it to retreat in violation of tactical rules. Satisfied of this, Lane 
amended his official report, and requested General Taylor to do the same 
thing. General Taylor refused, instigated, as was understood by well-informed 
Indianians at that time, by Jeff. Davis. 

" The reasons for this belief may be summed up : Davis claimed the vic- 
tory for his regiment, the 1st Mississippi ; even went so far as to claim that his 
was the only regiment that did not run that day ; all his assumptions were 
vigorously disputed by officers from our State, who on their part asserted 
that the 1st Mississippi had turned its back along with the others, a'nd that, in 
fact, the only regiment which had kept its front steadily to the enemy during 
the whole struggle, was the 3d Indiana, commanded by Colonel James H. 
Lane. Out of this dispute very naturally arose a red-hot quarrel. 

" When the controversy among the officers from our State culminated in 
a Court of Inquiry, Davis sided, it was said, with Colonel Bowles. His regi- 
ment had formerly presented Colonel Bowles a Mississippi rifle, in token of 
appreciation of gallantry displayed, and the fact was urged as proof of his 
partiality. The particular accusation against the 2d Indiana, it must be 
borne in mind, was cowardice ; and when in the dispute it was established 
that its Colonel had ordered the retreat, no doubt was entertained by our 
officers that General Taylor would officially relieve it from the charge. That 
he did not do so was at once attributed to Jeff. Davis, whose malignity was 
well known, while his near relation to General Taylor gave him influence to 
accomplish the end." 


They left Indianapolis with delight at so soon getting into 
action. Their delight was premature, as the duties they were 
called upon to perform were no more active nor interesting 
than those of an ordinary police force. They examined ves- 
sels passing down the Ohio, to prevent the carrying of contra- 
band goods, and they guarded Evansville, which was neither 
attacked nor threatened. The monotony of the camp was 
unendurable to men burning with the desire to do or die. 
When the heart is strung to the performance of a great deed, 
or to the offering of a great sacrifice, it is inexpressibly weari- 
some to be forced to count the moments, and to fill them with 
the stiff trifles of military life. The departure of three regi- 
ments from Camp Morton to the East added fuel to the fire 
of impatience. 

June 5th, the Eleventh was ordered to Cumberland, in the 
department of General Patterson. Little time was occupied 
in preparation. From one o'clock on the morning of the 7th, 
at which time the train arrived, until daylight, when it de- 
parted, crowds of friends in the Union Depot at Indianapolis 
were uttering last words and last cautions. Danger, death, 
and grief, all the scenes and emotions of war, have become so 
familiar to our minds through the terrible battles of Virginia, 
Alabama, and Tennessee, that it requires some effort of the 
imagination to appreciate the anxiety and sorrow of the 
friends of our first Volunteers. Then the form of war was as 
unfamiliar as it is awful. It blackened the very sky. Many 
a true-hearted woman, who bade her son or her brother go, 
shut down her windows and drew close her blinds, that she 
might not see banners and blue coats, -r- might not hear the 
drum and fife. 

The interest of the warm-hearted people of Ohio, and the 
ardor of the West Virginians, had not cooled; and the jour- 
ney to Grafton was different in no particular from that of the 
regiments which had gone before. From Grafton to Cum- 
berland the railroad passes through some of the most magnif- 
icent scenery in the United States. In winding down the 
slope of Laurel Hill, it springs over chasms of fearful breadth 
and depth, and at the base leaps boldly across the Cheat, a 
stream now dark with the sap of the laurel and spruce and 


pine forests in which it has its rise, soon, like many another 
American river, to be stained with brothers' blood. Almost 
lost in a savage pass, through which Snowy Creek alone 
sends a gleam, the rails again appear hanging on the rugged 
mountain-side, as if at the mercy of a gust of wind ; then 
gliding down from mountain and pass, they cut a straight 
line through level and beautiful meadows. 

Cumberland lies in a noble amphitheatre, with the laughing 
Potomac at its foot, and sunny slopes rising afar to forest- 
crowned peaks, all around. The fine old town has a history. 
Here the British, more than two hundred years ago, wrested 
an important fort from the French. Here the terror-stricken 
forces of Braddock found shelter after their disastrous defeat 
near Fort du Quesne. Here were Washington's head-quar- 
ters at one time, when he was in command of the Colonial 
troops. The stump of the pine, to which, according to tradi- 
tion, he with his own hands nailed the Stars and Stripes, still 
stands. Our soldiers were not sufficiently familiar with the 
history of our flag to observe the anachronism ; and they cut 
many a splinter from the venerable relic, and sent it home as 
a memento of the past and a token of the present. 

The Eleventh was scarcely encamped, before Colonel Wal- 
lace had an expedition planned. Romney, a town among 
the mountains, on the west branch of the Potomac, in Vir- 
ginia, formed the head-quarters of several hundred Rebel 
troops. These he determined to disperse. On the morning 
of June 12th, he went by railway, with about five hundred 
men, twenty miles, to New Creek Station. From this point 
it was necessary to proceed on foot over a rugged mountain- 
road, which afforded rare facilities to an enemy. About four 
miles from Romney the scouts captured a well-known Seces- 
sion officer. To men who had been walking twelve hours, 
the sight of an important prisoner was agreeable. A little 
more than a mile from Romney they were fired upon by the 
enemy's advance guard, which then galloped forward and in- 
formed the camp. The approach of danger fired the spirits 
of the Zouaves, and they increased their speed. 

The enemy was drawn up on the bluff, on which the town 
is situated, with two guns planted to sweep the road. Col- 


onel Wallace called the attention of his men to a large house, 
about seventy-five yards from the farther end of the bridge, 
between them and the town ; then gave the order to advance. 
They clashed over the bridge, leaped down an embankment 
at the farther end, and, as had been expected, received some 
scattering shot from the house. They rushed to the house 
and surrounded it, but not in time to prevent the escape of 
the pickets through windows and doors and up the hill be- 
hind. They now rapidly, but in a scattering manner, avoid- 
ing the road, pushed up the bluff to the right, with the double 
purpose of escaping the guns and cutting off the retreat. But 
" the legs of the enemy, their only trusty weapon of defence," 
did not fail them now. When the hill was gained, the road 
beyond was darkened with fugitives, — soldiers and citizens, 
women and children. 

The Zouaves seized a quantity of arms and ammunition, 
some horses and provisions, then turned and walked back 
over a road which to footsore and wearied men was doubly 
dangerous. This expedition occupied but forty-two hours, 
although forty-six of the eighty-seven miles comprised were 
performed on foot ; the road was rough, and not without dan- 
ger in the night. Two dead and one wounded Rebel were 
left on the field. There was no Union loss. 

A few days later, the Rebels burned a bridge, six miles 
from camp, and established themselves in force at Piedmont, 
twenty-eight miles west, on the railroad. Colonel Wallace's 
small force was now in a dangerous situation. The only 
reinforcements he could expect on short notice were two 
or three hundred Pennsylvania miners, who signified their 
willingness in case of necessity. Colonel Wallace daily sent 
mounted pickets, thirteen in all, to different posts along the 
several approaches to Cumberland. June 26th, the whole 
thirteen — D. B. Hay, E. Baker, E. Burkett, J. Hollenback, 
T. Grover, J. Hollowell, T. Brazier, G. Mulbarger, L. Farley, 
F. Harrison, H. Dunlap, R. M. Dunlap, and E. P. Thomas — 
were directed to proceed to Frankfort, a town midway be- 
tween Romney and Cumberland. 

In the evening of the same day, as the regiment was drill- 
ing on the hill-side, Harry Dunlap, his horse foaming and 


panting, was seen hastening toward Colonel Wallace. The 
word flashed along the line, surmise taken as fact : " All our 
scouts are prisoners or killed ! " Anxiety was not allayed 
when Colonel Wallace, after rapidly giving some orders to 
an officer who stood near, called to Dunlap, as he turned : 
" Get off that horse. There is a horse," — pointing to a fine 
animal a citizen was riding up the hill, — " take him." 

The stranger, seeming to comprehend the necessity for the 
singular order, quietly dismounted. Dunlap instantly sprang 
on the fresh horse, and away he flew. Fifty men, under 
Major Robinson, followed. Soon a covered express-wagon, 
surrounded by a large crowd of citizens, approached. Cor- 
poral Hay, the leader of the scouts, pale and bloody, lay 
within. The wagon stopped before the hospital-tent. The 
wounded man refused assistance, although he moved with 
difficulty. He had one sword- and three bullet-wounds, and 
had come ten or twelve miles since receiving them. Never- 
theless he was able to give a spirited history of a great part 
of the day's adventures to Colonel Wallace. 

The scouts went within a quarter of a mile of Frankfort, 
to a point from which they obtained a view of the village. 
To their surprise, they saw large numbers of both infantry 
and cavalry in the streets. A short reconnoissance was suffi- 
cient. They turned their horses' heads in the direction of 
Cumberland, and having come over the broad and direct road, 
they now, the better to scour the district, took a different 
route, which happened to be narrow, winding, and hilly. At 
a cabin-door they asked a woman, who stood watching them, 
with an interested and alarmed countenance, if any of the 
enemy were near. " Yes," she answered, " I counted forty- 
one, not five minutes ago, trotting along this very road." 
" Boys, shall we fight, or turn back ? " asked the corporal, 
fight gleaming in his own eyes. " Fight ! " responded all, 
and on they plunged. A man at the side of the road stopped 
them. "Rebels just ahead!" he said. " How far ? " "Not 
fifty yards ; around that bend." 

The hour had come for which they had volunteered; the 
hour of revenge for Buena- Vista, and of glory. They reached 
the bend. Before them, trotting along leisurely, was a small 


body of cavalry. Clatter, clatter on the hill-side ! The Rebels 
turned. Deceived by the bend, or by the furious onset of the 
approaching party, they fancied a hundred men in pursuit. 
One glance sufficed. " Neck or nought ! " The horses caught 
the fear or the spirit, and neither whip nor spur they needed 
as they dashed on. The Zouaves did not even rein up to 
fire, but fired as they galloped. Suddenly the flying party 
came upon a deep gully. Several of their horses fell. There 
was no escape. The pursuers were at their heels. A des- 
perate hand-to-hand fight ensued. Farley and a noted Texan 
ranger, a man of immense size, rolled down the bank, locked 
in each other's arms. The Texan cried for mercy. Farley 
loosed his hold, and sprang up. The Texan caught him by 
the legs and pulled him down again. Again there was a 
deadly struggle. Now one, and now the other, had his gripe 
on the throat of his foe. Both could never rise. Farley's 
hand failed. His limbs relaxed. One more blow, and the 
ranger would shake the dead man's hold from his massive 
body. Just then a bullet. The ranger released his clutch, 
and Farley staggered to his feet. Harrison had beaten off 
an assailant, when his eye fell on the struggling form of 
Farley, and he sent the ball which saved his comrade's life. 
Eight Rebels fell at this point. The remainder of the party 
fled on up the mountain. The scouts turned back into the 
road, and were engaged in binding up the wounds of Hay, 
when they saw the enemy returning, and in a force not less 
than seventy-five. One of the Dunlaps had gone for a 
wagon for Hay, and the scputs were now but eleven. Hay 
was placed on a horse and had sufficient strength to keep 
his seat, and to escape to the woods. 

The corporal could tell no more. What had become of 
his comrades, he could not say. They came in, however, 
during the night, except two, Thomas and Hollenback, and 
finished the tale. 

While Hay was making his escape into the woods, the 
remaining scouts abandoned their horses and waded to an 
island in the mouth of Patterson's Creek, which here flows 
into the Potomac. They could not have found a better 
position, but the odds were fearful. Eleven men on the low, 


defenceless island, more than seventy on the shore. Not a 
bullet must fail. Not a bullet did fail. With steady eye 
and steady hand, the scouts aimed at every man who entered 
the water ; and Patterson's Creek was certain death to him 
who was so bold as to leave the shore. But the contest was 
too unequal to be kept up long. The water was crossed, 
the island gained, and yet not won. Foot by foot, inch by 
inch, it was disputed in blood. It is a fearful sight, men 
fighting for their lives ! Now teeth were set, and fists were 
clenched. There was firing, and stabbing, and wrestling, and 
swearing, and praying. There was even pity in the wild fury 
of this combat. " I hate to kill you, but I must," muttered 
a Rebel, leaning over a Zouave, with bowie-knife upraised to 
give the fatal blow. A ball entered the divided heart, and the 
lifted hand sank powerless. 

Twilight came, and under its friendly cover the scouts crept 
through the bushes, waded the stream, and hid in the woods ; 
all but Hollenback. He lay helpless and bleeding on the 

The next day Hollenback's lifeless body, shockingly pierced 
and mutilated, was found. His appearance excited suspi- 
cion ; and the woman at whose house he was found asserted 
that he had been murdered. He was buried with the honors 
of war in the old cemetery of Cumberland, on the shore of 
that river whose melancholy fame was just beginning. 

Hollenback was dead, murdered ; and no man knew what 
had befallen Thomas. He had been seen to fall, but the 
island, the road, and the woods around had been searched in 
vain. Perhaps he lay in some dark gorge, perhaps in the 
river. Perhaps the Rebels had dragged him, wounded, into 
imprisonment. A heavy gloom rested on the camp. 

As the evening sun was sinking behind the mountains, a 
cry ran from lip to lip, and . swelled into a glad shout of 
" Thomas ! Thomas ! " On the brow of the hill the figure of 
a man was thrown in strong relief against the sky. It was 
the lost soldier. The regiment rushed towards him, and " every 
man felt as if his own brother had risen from the dead ! V 
Thomas had been knocked down by a grazing shot over the 
eye. Scarcely had he fallen, when a hand was on his throat. 


A shot from Grover delivered him from this second danger. 
He crept into a thicket and remained quiet until he could, 
unobserved, get to the hills. 

The number of the enemy killed in this encounter was 
surprising. The woman at whose house Hollenback was 
found, said twenty-three were laid out on her porch. Neigh- 
bors confirmed her statement. 

Certainly it was a most remarkable skirmish, whether we 
consider the number of the enemy slain, or the physical 
strength and skill, the steadiness of hand and eye, the readi- 
ness of thought, the coolness and resolution of the Zouaves, 
the fiery bravery with which they made the onset, and the 
patient bravery with which they withstood the assault. Kel- 
ley's Island is the least among battle-fields, yet its glory is 
not small. Here fell the first Indiana soldier. 

The Eleventh received many attentions from the good 
people of Cumberland, but none which they appreciated 
more highly than a present of a garrison-flag, — with compli- 
ments to the bravery, kindness, and courtesy of Colonel 
Wallace's Zouaves — and a Fourth of July dinner. In honor 
of the Fourth, the camp was decorated with evergreens and 
flowers; and the exchange of positions, which imagination 
sometimes attempts in society, was proposed and effected 
with no confusion and much amusement. Officers carried 
guns and walked the rounds, while privates entertained 

July 7th, the Eleventh received orders to join General 
Patterson at Martinsburg, and the same evening took up 
the line of march. The distance, ninety-seven miles, was 
accomplished in four days and a half. Forty thousand 
United States troops were now at Martinsburg ; and the 
larger number, deceived by the easy conquest of West Vir- 
ginia, anticipated a rapid march to Richmond. The supe- 
rior officers, however, who knew the difficulty of obtaining 
supplies, and the danger of a sudden decrease of numbers 
arising from the expiration of the term of enlistment, looked 
forward to a battle with anxiety, if not with dread. Gen- 
eral Patterson was ordered to prevent the arrival of General 
Johnston with reinforcements at Manassas. He visited the 


different brigades in person, represented that a battle was 
imminent, and urged them to stay a few days longer. Four 
of the nineteen regiments whose time was expiring, among 
them the Eleventh Indiana, came forward and announced 
their determination to remain, but fifteen could not be moved 
from their stubborn purpose to return to their homes. The 
fact that many men had left families unprovided for, and that 
their own clothing was worn out and could not be renewed, 
forms some slight alleviation to the disgrace of men who 
could march from the battle-field to the firing of the enemy's 

With such a force as he could retain, and it was not small, 
Patterson approached Winchester, where Johnston was for- 
tified, — approached, and stopped, and lay on his arms, while 
all night long the puffing of locomotives announced the 
departure of Rebel troops toward Manassas. He went to 
Charlestown, then back to Bunker Hill, and farther back to 
Harper's Ferry. He was not idle. In one or two warm skir- 
mishes his advance was successful ; and if marching and 
countermarching could have saved the battle of Manassas, 
then would Patterson have done his duty and won great 
renown. He was too far off to engage in the disastrous 
conflict which opened and closed on the 21st of July. Thus 
it happened that Indiana, in her grief for the national defeat, 
was spared the additional pang of recognizing her own sons 
among the sufferers in that strange panic which, for the hour, 
unmanned the noble and the brave. 

The last week in July witnessed the return of the six reg- 
iments from the mountains of Virginia and the meadows 
of Maryland. They were engaged in no great battle in the 
three months' campaign; they did not suffer with heat nor 
with cold ; they had no experience of malarious swamps and 
rivers, of thirsty sands, or of Southern prisons ; and what- 
ever hardships they endured were made light by the prospect 
of a speedy termination. The veterans, who have tramped 
from one end of the Republic to the other, and back again ; 
who have besieged cities, blockaded islands, and bombarded 
fortresses ; who have swept backward and forward, like a 
surging sea, upon a battle-field, not one hour, nor four, but 


all day and all night ; may smile at the three-months' cam- 
paign, and talk of summer soldiers. Bat it should not be 
forgotten that these six regiments were among the pioneers 
of the war. They first sprang to arms, they first shouted the 
battle-cry of freedom, they first stood the shock of battle, 
they baptized the now truly sacred soil of Virginia with 
Indiana blood ; and it is their dead who lead the stately but 
sad procession of Indiana's heroes. 

The laurels won in the West Virginia campaign were 
not divided. The name of Morris does not occur in McClel- 
lan's reports. The nation, rejoiced in its hour of need to 
find a great man, did not criticise nor doubt, but confidingly 
placed the laurel wreath upon the offered head. Morris, who, 
in spite of the restraint laid upon him by his slow and strat- 
egetical superior, had shown himself quick, skilful, and pru- 
dent, and had won the greater part of the success unaided, 
made no attempt to gain public attention. He quietly with- 
drew to the duties of civil life. His indignant friends ob- 
tained for him at length from the seemingly unwilling Gov- 
ernment the position of major-general, but could not induce 
its acceptance. As for the privates who were engaged in the 
three-months' campaign, hundreds of them, brave, intelligent, 
patient men, are still in the war, and are still privates. 




After the organization of the six regiments of three-months' 
men, twenty-nine companies remained in Camp Morton, and 
sixty-eight in different parts of the State, in readiness, and 
begging for acceptance. Governor Morton, convinced that 
the President would call for additional forces, and that the 
State legislature, then in session, would provide by law for 
the organization of troops for the defence of the State, 
issued orders for five regiments of twelve-months' Volunteers. 
Camps of rendezvous were established in the following 
places: — Twelfth: Camp Morton, Indianapolis; Thirteenth: 
Camp Sullivan, Indianapolis ; Fourteenth : Camp Vigo, Terre 
Haute; Fifteenth: Camp Tippecanoe, Lafayette ; Sixteenth: 
Camp Wayne, Richmond. 

The State legislature did more than accede to the prop- 
osition of Governor Morton. It provided for the employ- 
ment of six regiments, and declared that they should be 
subject to the order of the Governor of the State to fill any 
requisition made for troops on Indiana by the President of 
the United States. 

For the Seventeenth a camp of rendezvous was estab- 
lished at Camp Morton. Colonel Joseph J. Reynolds was 
appointed brigadier-general. General Reynolds is a citizen 
of Lafayette. He received his education at West Point. 
His name appears attached to the "Army Register of 1840," 
in conformity with a regulation requiring the names of five 
of the most distinguished cadets to be reported for this pur- 
pose at each annual examination. The legislature also made 
a law for the organization of the militia, and divided the 
militia into two classes — sedentary, and active. The seden- 
tary militia comprised all persons liable to bear arms under 
the State constitution, except those enrolled in the active 


militia. The active militia, called also the home legion, con- 
sisted of all such citizens between the ages of eighteen and 
forty-five as should enroll themselves and take the oath 
of allegiance to the United States and the State of Indiana. 
The State furnished these persons with arms, equipments, 
and ammunition, and paid the expenses of drills. When 
called into active service, they were to receive the same pay 
as corresponding grades in the United States Army. They 
were to provide themselves with uniforms similar to that of 
the United States troops, and on being taken into the ser- 
vice of the General Government, were to receive compensa- 
tion for the cost of their uniform. 

On the 3d of May the President issued a proclamation, 
calling for Volunteer forces to serve three years or during 
the war. Four regiments were assigned to Indiana, accom- 
panied by an earnest injunction to the Governor to call for 
no more ; or if more were already called for, to reduce the 
number by discharge. 

The second call of the President, and also the first, were 
no doubt limited by the want of arms; as, while Southern 
traitors were occupying positions in the United States Gov- 
ernment, the armories in the Northern States had been almost 
stripped, and the contents sent South. On the 19th of April, 
fifteen thousand muskets in Harper's Ferry Armory had been 
destroyed, to prevent their falling into tjjje hands of the Con- 
federates ; and the Springfield Armory, the only other de- 
pendence, was capable of producing only about twenty-five 
thousand muskets annually. Much time must necessarily 
elapse before arms could be brought from Europe. In addi- 
tion to the want of arms, the President and his Council were 
greatly embarrassed by the continued discovery of traitors in 
high places, and by the state of the treasury, which was pur- 
posely reduced to bankruptcy by the preceding administration. 

In pursuance of the orders from the War Department, the 
Thirteenth, Fourteenth, Fifteenth, and Seventeenth regiments 
were transferred to the United States service in an incomplete 
state. Governor Morton's policy of getting Indiana's quota 
for three years accepted before any attempt was made to re- 
organize the three-months' men, prevented the confusion that 


prevailed among the Volunteers of one of the neighboring 
States, the Governor of which commenced to form the three- 
years' regiments from the three-months' troops ; and had also 
the effect of giving to Indiana six more regiments than 
would otherwise have been allotted to the State. The 
Twelfth and Sixteenth embraced all who declined to enter 
the United States service for three years. 

Before the close of the three months, the Thirteenth was 
already in the field and actively engaged. The colonel of 
this regiment, Jeremiah Sullivan, was a young man, little 
more than thirty years old, but had served some time in the 
navy, and learned there the importance and value of disci- 
pline, — a lesson now to be put in practice to the advantage 
of himself and others. He arrived in Indianapolis from Madi- 
son, and reported to Governor Morton, with a company of one 
hundred and two men, the Thursday after the fall of Sumter. 
He was appointed commandant of a post, and engaged in 
disciplining Volunteers, until, on the 4th of July, he left In- 
dianapolis as Colonel of the Thirteenth. Having arrived at 
Buckhannon on the 8th, and the next day reached McClellan's 
camp, twelve miles east, the regiment was in time to join in 
Rosecrans's morning-walk over the rocks of Rich Mountain. 
In the engagement with Colonel Pegram's rear, the Thirteenth 
bore the hottest of the enemy's fire, and suffered loss in pro- 
portion. Seven men^vere killed on this their first battle-field, 
and just seven days after their hopeful farewell to home. 
They were buried with tenderness and care. Their graves 
were covered with green sod, and marked with slabs inscribed 
with name and age. A simple and transitory tribute, — 'but 
their memory will ever be kept green. 

The Fourteenth and Fifteenth regiments followed in the 
wake of the Thirteenth as far as McClellan's camp. These 
two regiments were made up respectively of Volunteers from 
the western, southwestern, and northern portions of the State. 
The colonel of the Fourteenth was Nathan Kimball, a grad- 
uate of Asbury University, and a physician in Loogootee. 
He was a captain in the Second Indiana regiment in the 
Mexican War, and distinguished himself in the battle of 
Buena -Vista by the skill with which, during the retreat, he 


brought off his men in company form, and the coolness and 
Bravery with which he conducted them back to the battle- 
field, and fought with them during the day. When Colonel 
Bowles, who had given the disgraceful order to retreat, made 
his appearance at dress-parade after the court martial, the 
spirited captain refused to be inspected by him, and marched 
his men off the parade-ground. He was court-martialled for 
this offence, but his sword was soon returned to him. 

The colonel of the Fifteenth was George D. Wagner, from 
Pine Village, a man of energy and nerve, who with few 
early advantages had made his way to a prominent place in 
the State Senate, and was President of the State Board of 

During the 12th of July, all McClellan's by no means in- 
significant army stood ready for battle, awaiting the concerted 
signal, — the sound of firing from the rear of Pegram's camp. 
They waited in vain, and moved only when a messenger 
from Rosecrans brought information of the defeat and flight 
of the enemy. General McClellan then took up the line of 
march to Beverly, which place he made his head-quarters 
until called to a wider field. About the same time Rosecrans 
went towards the Kanawha, which the Rebel General Wise 
was threatening, and which was important as commanding 
the road to Cumberland Gap and to loyal East Tennessee. 

The Fourteenth and Fifteenth were left almost alone 
guarding the Staunton turnpike from Beverly to Cheat 
Mountain Pass, fifteen miles east. In a few days they re- 
ceived a reinforcement of a company of Rangers, and a day 
later welcomed their new General. 

General Reynolds had no staff and no body-guard. A 
member of General Morris's staff, Dr. Fletcher, formerly fife- 
major of the Sixth, expressed his desire to remain, and was 
at once transferred to the new General's staff, which he might 
be said to form, as for a while there was no other member. 

The company of cavalry known as the Bracken Rangers 
offered itself to the General Government at the beginning 
of the war, under the President's call for Volunteers ; and 
also to the State of Indiana, under an act of the legislature, 
passed at the extra session, held in the spring. 


The policy of the General Government was not then to 
raise any but infantry regiments ; and the State authorities 
declined to organize a force as provided by the act of the 
legislature. In the early part of June, instructions came 
from the War Department to have two companies of cav- 
alry immediately organized and prepared for the field. On 
the receipt of these, orders, Captain Bracken recruited his 
company, and went into Camp Mnrphy. Such was the 
enthusiasm in the formation of this company, that men too 
late to find a vacancy offered from ten to two hundred dol- 
lars for the situation of private. 

July 19th, the company left Indianapolis. The citizens 
of Ohio were not yet tired of cheering, and the passage 
through that State was, as usual, like a triumphal proces- 
sion. Although it was midnight when the train reached 
Dayton, thousands stood ready with a joyful greeting and 
more substantial evidences of consideration. At Webster, 
between fifty and sixty prisoners, taken at various places, 
were put under their charge and conducted by them to Bev- 
erly. While on the route an incident occurred showing the 
dangers to which travellers and trains are frequently exposed. 
In a narrow part of the road they met a train of wagons, 
and the horses attached to a wagon containing fifteen pris- 
oners became unmanageable and plunged off the road, up- 
setting and dragging another wagon clown the bluff. Tum- 
bling and rolling, horses and drivers, prisoners and wagons, 
fell twenty feet together, without breaking a bone. 

On their arrival at Beverly, the prisoners took an oath not 
to bear arms against the United States Government, and 
were released. Many of them immediately left for Staunton, 
some not without returning thanks for the kind treatment 
they had received. 

The battles of Laurel Hill, Rich Mountain, and Carrick's 
Ford had driven the Rebels out of Western Virginia, and 
beyond the Cheat Mountain Range. The army of General 
Reynolds, being only an army of occupation, was divided 
into three camps, forming an almost equilateral triangle, with 
a mountain bridle-path forming the base line between the 
Elk Water and the Summit. The Staunton turnpike finds 


its way through Cheat Pass ; and a branch-road, connecting 
Huntersville on the east with Huttonville, a village of some 
half-dozen houses situated directly in the pass on the west, 
runs a few miles to the south through Elk Water Pass. 

General Reynolds established his head-quarters in the field, 
near Huttonville, and retained at this point the Thirteenth, 
and nearly half the Bracken Rangers. A small detachment of 
the latter was sent under Lieutenant Bassett to Elk Water, 
with the Fifteenth. Colonel Kimball, with the Fourteenth, 
already had possession of the Summit. Captain Bracken, 
with the remainder of his company, was also sent to the 
Summit. The Third Ohio, and batteries, consisting in all 
of about fourteen guns, were about equally divided among 
the camps. The whole force consisted of a little more than 
four thousand. The Summit and Elk Water, by the wagon- 
road, were eighteen miles apart; Huttonville, between them, 
was nearer the latter. 

The Bracken Rangers were not again together on duty 
until the following February. Being the only company of 
mounted men attached to the brigade during most of this 
time, their duty as scouts, videttes, guards, and messengers 
was constant, laborious, and dangerous. No expedition or 
reconnoissance went out from any of the camps without 
being accompanied by a detachment of Bracken's cavalry, 
generally under command of a commissioned officer. The 
character of the country through which they were operating 
made it impossible to move off the travelled road, and ren- 
dered scouting on horseback extremely dangerous. At night, 
if not on duty, standing picket with horse in hand or mounted, 
they slept in their blankets, on pine or other boughs cut for 
the purpose. Such was their mode of life, and such it 
still is. 




General Reynolds was fully aware of the responsibil- 
ity of his position, as warden of West Virginia, and he 
immediately fell to work at the intrenchments. Both pri- 
vates and officers lustily plied spade and axe until this trin- 
ity of strongholds seemed invulnerable to any but an im- 
mensely superior force. The fortifications on the Summit 
were built where the road makes an abrupt descent on both 
sides, having no level land on top. The tall white pines, 
which here grow very close together, were cut down for 
several acres, — the branches partially lopped and stripped, 
and the trees arranged around the camp, with the points 
out. Inside of this felled timber a strong wall of logs was 
built, and a deep ditch dug. Breastworks were thrown 
across the road on either side, in a line with the fortifications, 
and furnished with cannon, which on the east could sweep 
the approach more than a mile. In the rear of the fortifi- 
cations there was no opening in the forest, except, at the 
distance of a mile or two, an old road, long abandoned and 
almost forgotten. The fortifications of Elk Water spanned 
the valley, which was about three hundred yards wide. They 
consisted of a deep and wide trenoh, and an embankment 
thrown up with a regular gradation, that the men might 
step up, shoot, and step back to load, in entire security. At 
the ends of the embankment were pieces on batteries ranging 
diagonally across the valley. The projector was Lieutenant- 
Colonel Owen. 

On a fair day, a veil of blue mist hangs from two mas- 
sive peaks at the head of the passes, spreads over the jagged 
outlines, north, east, and south, and lies along the rounded 
western hills which guard the valley of the Tygart. A small 
stream, showing in its sweet, transparent water the speckled 


mountain-trout tmd the white pebbles on its bottom, gives 
its name, the Elk, to the southern pass. A mile and a quar- 
ter east of the Summit, the dark cold Cheat dashes along 
its solitary and pine - bordered way to the Monongahela. 
Summer never tarries long in the mountain - valleys, and 
winter is always hovering over the mountain-tops. Even in 
August snow sometimes falls. In this cold, rugged, yet pict- 
uresque and beautiful region our soldiers were destined to 
remain many months. General Lee had collected Garnett's 
scattered forces immediately after their escape, and so added 
to them that in August he had an army of sixteen thousand. 
He fortified a position which nature had already made strong, 
on the Staunton road, as it ascends the Alleghanies ; and sat 
down cautiously to watch his foes upon the mountains in his 
front. Lee is accredited by Pollard, the Southern historian, 
with a " pious horror of guerrillas." However this may be, 
our troops are confident that a regularly organized body of 
bushwhackers, numbering five hundred, was connected with 
his army, and that, though not acknowledged, they reported 
to somebody. Their leader was Jim Gum, a man whose 
appearance was suggestive of Lord Monboddo's theory of 
the origin of mankind. His matted, tangled locks, wander- 
ing eyes, and claw-like fingers, — the mournful expression 
which settled on his face when he was inactive, — were all 
like those of some wild, shy, vicious, mountain-creature. 

The laurel, growing like a dense hedge close to the path 
and the roadside, afforded a hiding-place and safe retreat 
to the guerrilla. The teamster on the wagon which carried 
stores or mail to and from Beverly, Philippi, and Webster; 
the cavalry escort of an expedition sent out to buy forage ; 
the picket at his distant post ; the sentinel on duty, not out 
of sight of camp ; fell victims to the sure aim of the stealthy 

On the 9th of August, three cavalry men came dashing 
into the camp on the Summit, with the information, that, 
as they, with two other horsemen and one infantry man, 
were driving cattle along the Staunton road toward the 
Summit, they had been fired on from the bushes. Unable 
to turn out of the road with their horses, and unable even 


to see the enemy, they had fled, leaving three of their num- 
ber, bleeding, on the ground. Exactly such an incident had 
occurred the day but one before, except that two men in- 
stead of three had fallen. In consequence, the blast which 
roused the camp explained itself. With no delay, cavalry 
and infantry followed Colonel Kimball, and traced the steps 
of the returned party. They had proceeded about four 
miles, when they met another party, bringing to camp two 
prisoners taken the day before, near the place of the attack. 
Colonel Kimball demanded of the prisoners — a sulky, almost 
idiotic-looking couple — the number and whereabouts of their 
gang. They refused to answer, — a right which all prisoners 
but bushwhackers have. Colonel Kimball wasted a few 
words in exhortations, a few more in threats; then, exasper- 
ated beyond endurance, raised his pistol and fired. In the 
words of one of the Rangers, " Then and there, in question- 
ing them, the Colonel shot one of the prisoners, in order to 
make him talk. After which proceeding the prisoner talked, 
and was immediately cared for by a surgeon." The wound 
was not severe. This man was a murderer, and was cap- 
tured as he lay in wait for assassination. As a partisan 
ranger or bushwhacker, he was an outlaw. Yet the gener- 
ous and conscientious Kimball would surely not have fired 
on an unarmed prisoner, who had not yet received a trial, 
had he not been greatly exasperated and excited. 

A mile or two farther, the three wounded men were found 
lying in the road. The guerrillas had appeared, after their 
comrades had left, and had fired again on one, Harry Cheyne, 
adding a second to his already mortal wound. They were 
taken up and carried carefally to camp. One died that night; 
another in two days ; the third, Harry Cheyne, lay in the hos- 
pital on the mountain, until he was carried in a litter by his 
comrades to Beverly, where he lingered two months, an un- 
complaining sufferer. His fellow-soldiers still speak of him 
affectionately and sorrowfully. They repeat that he had no 
hard feelings towards anybody but the man who shot him 
after he was down. 

Only where the power of the United States Government 
was forcibly felt, that is, only where guerrillas were seized 


and punished without fail, did this sort of warfare become 
less prevalent. 

General Lee is a strategist, disinclined to bold and dashing 
movements, averse to bloodshed, and fond of planning. He 
proposed to surround and entrap the Union troops ; and to 
accomplish his purpose, divided his forces, sending fifteen hun- 
dred men, under Colonel Rust of Arkansas, along the road 
to the northern pass, while he himself crept toward Elk 
Water. While the former should keep the Summit engaged, 
the latter was to reach the rear and force the three camps, 
one after the other, to surrender. 

As the opposing forces were daily brought nearer, recon- 
noitring parties frequently, and at many different points, 
came in contact. The immense forest, the ragged rocks, the 
winding course of the two roads and of the few by-paths, 
by obscuring an approach or an encampment, sometimes 
brought on unexpected engagements, and were conducive to 
unanticipated successes. One exhilarating day in August, 
a day inviting to adventure, Captain Hill of the Twenty- 
Fourth Ohio, which had lately been added to the little army, 
and Captain Thomson of the Fourteenth Indiana, left the 
Summit with about two hundred men, and advanced along 
the Staunton road two miles beyond our pickets. Here 
they spent the night. At dawn they renewed their march, 
although they were now almost within the enemy's outposts. 
Journeying along the still mountain road, they examined every 
opening and every ravine. Wherever on their return they 
might be cut off, they left a small force. At Hanging Rock, 
a dangerous point at the crossing of the Greenbrier, they left 
ten men, and pushed across the shallow stream with the re- 
mainder of their number, now about thirty. A drizzling rain 
and a heavy mist hid the mountains and obscured the valleys. 
They saw but a short distance before them, and came unex- 
pectedly upon the Rebel pickets. Taking advantage of the 
mist, which concealed, if it did not magnify their number, 
they boldly attacked the pickets, drove them in, and captured 
three cavalry horses with equipments. They also captured a 
guard, quartered at a house on the roadside. Audaciously 
pressing onward, they turned a spur of the hill and came in 


full view of a thousand or more white tents, — infantry form- 
ing in line of march, and cavalry moving in the meadow be- 
low to intercept their retreat. One glance was sufficient. 
The thirty-two invaders of Rebel territory turned their back 
to the foe, and with the steady tread of men and the rapid 
tramp of horses behind them, reached and passed Hanging 
Rock, which the ten pickets were preparing to defend from a 
body of cavalry approaching by another route. Suspecting 
an ambush, the enemy at this point stopped the pursuit. 

General Lee considered the attainment of the position 
he had planned by far the most difficult part of his under- 
taking ; and when, after almost incredible exertions in the 
ascent of precipitous heights, and almost exhausting endur- 
ance of cold, he succeeded in planting himself on both sides 
of Elk Water, and Colonel Rust gained the crags of Cheat, 
he hoped to catch in his open hand the fruits of success. 
The brave spirits within the mountain fortifications were 
not prepared to succumb, the less so as they were not aware 
of the immense superiority in numbers of Lee's army. Since 
the middle of August, reinforcements, consisting of the Sev- 
enteenth Indiana and several Ohio regiments, had been re- 
ceived. General Reynolds now moved his head-quarters and 
all his available force to Elk Water, and prepared for a vigor- 
ous defence. The troops had every confidence in their Gen- 
eral, their cause, and themselves, and saw the gathering and 
thickening dangers with delight. 

During the second week in September, the mountains 
swarmed with Confederates. They were in front and in the 
rear; to the right and to the left. General Reynolds kept 
up constant skirmishing, kept men sleeping in the trenches, 
and the Rangers with their horses saddled and bridled. 

September 8th, Sunday, Lieutenant- Colonel Owen, with 
two hundred and twenty-five infantry and four dragoons, 
to be used as messengers, was ordered by Colonel Wagner 
to proceed along the turnpike until he should meet the enemy, 
but to bring on no general engagement. The first night one 
half of the command slept on their arms, while the other 
half kept guard. They made no fires and preserved entire 
silence. Before daylight, they resumed their advance. They 


carefully examined both sides of the road ; nevertheless they 
came so suddenly and so close upon a troop of Confeder- 
ates, that a private of the Fifteenth, almost before he was 
aware, was engaged in a hand-to-hand scuffle. It was im- 
possible to avoid an engagement, and Colonel Owen ordered 
his men to fire by sections, then to countermarch, re-form, and 
load in the rear. A brisk but brief action followed. A num- 
ber of prisoners was taken. Not a man was lost. The 
prisoners represented their camp to consist of eight thousand 

Monday, Colonel Wagner ordered Captain Templeton, of 
the Fifteenth, to advance with two companies eight miles 
along the Huntersville road, and hold a point four miles from 
the enemy's camp. Major Christopher of the Sixth Ohio, 
with a hundred men, was placed in the rear, as a support. 
Wednesday morning, Captain Templeton's pickets were 
driven in. He sent for reinforcements. Colonel Wagner im- 
mediately sent the left wing of the Fifteenth, with Major 
Wood, and orders still to hold the position ; but when in a 
short time a scout, who had been posted three miles to the 
east, reported a column of two thousand moving with the 
evident intention of cutting off Captain Templeton and 
Major Christopher, Colonel Wagner sent orders for the 
entire force to fall back instantly. 

Wednesday night, Captain Coon, of the Fourteenth, was 
ordered to guard the bridle-path leading from Cheat Summit 
to Elk Water, a distance of seven miles. Taking with him 
sixty men, he left the sleeping camp on the Summit and 
proceeded down the mountain. Near midnight, finding the 
darkness so great as to render the woods impenetrable, the 
scouts bivouacked; but rousing at dawn, they set about 
their duty. During the same night General Lee had thrown 
into these same woods three regiments ; and Colonel Rust, 
from his position in front, two regiments. These were now 
making their way to the right and rear of Cheat Mountain, 
and by this time were on every side of Captain Coon's com- 
pany of scouts. Nothing however suggested danger, except 
the aspect of a farm-house, which, although known to be oc- 
cupied the day before, was now closed and deserted. Cap- 


tain Coon halted and sent two men forward. They returned 
and reported traces of six horses. A corporal, with four men, 
was immediately sent to reconnoitre more closely. The 
little squad crossed a narrow meadow, entered a wood, and 
commenced ascending a hill, before either sight or sound 
occurred to confirm suspicion. When half-way up the height, 
a salute of twenty or thirty muskets gave the required intel- 
ligence, brought the squad to a stand, and started Captain 
Coon forward. Several hundred muskets from the rocks 
above forced a retreat behind the steep bank of a small 
stream. From this shelter, Captain Coon and his company 
fired for a short time in safety, and with great effect ; but 
by the threat of a flanking movement on the part of the 
enemy, they were driven back to several piles of logs. Here 
again there was a stand, and hot firing; again there was a 
threatened flanking movement, and again a retreat. 

The great body of the Rebels, following the deserted road, 
had unobserved come between the Summit and the outposts, 
and concealed themselves within a few feet of the highway, 
waiting for sufficient light to enable them to make an attack. 
Not half a mile from camp they seized the supply - train, 
which left every morning at daylight and returned every after- 
noon with provisions. Shortly after, a single Ranger, going 
to his post, discovered the train without drivers and horses, 
and gave the alarm. Colonel Kimball, with twenty officers 
and two companies of the Fourteenth, Captains Williamson 
and Brooks, repaired to the spot to reconnoitre. Discover- 
ing the enemy, yet unconscious of his strength, he opened 
fire. He soon saw that he was opposed by a very large num- 
ber; nevertheless he ordered his men to hold their ground, 
and had the pleasure of seeing the whole force of the enemy 
throw aside guns, clothing, and everything that impeded 
progress, and fly. Small scouting parties, at different points, 
engaged the enemy under the same misunderstanding as to 
numbers. The boldness of these little parties misled the 
Confederates. They supposed themselves discovered, and 
were the more easily intimidated. 

Meantime Captain Higgins, of the Twenty-fourth Ohio, 
with ninety men, was out in search of Captain Coon. While 


pressing through the woods they received a volley from a 
hundred guns. Two or three volleys were exchanged ; but 
Major Harrow, of the Fourteenth, coming up with two com- 
panies, and learning from prisoners the number in front, 
drew in the men and posted them, as advance guard, two 
miles nearer camp. Late in the day, Captain Coon and the 
larger portion of his men came in. They were torn and 
scratched by briers, and wet from wading numerous streams. 
They had been almost throttled by vines, had lost their hats 
and their shoes, and bore in their whole appearance evidence 
that they had barely escaped with their lives. Their com- 
rades, now fully aware of the dangers they had endured and 
had escaped, greeted them with cheers and even tears of sur- 
prise and joy. 

Lieutenant Junod, Company E, Fourteenth Indiana, at a 
picket station east of the Summit, with a force of thirty-five 
men, was attacked by five hundred. Junod was killed ; as 
was also a private, George Winder. All the others escaped. 
One saved himself by throwing up his hands and falling as 
if lifeless. 

In another warm engagement on the west, thirty were able 
to keep a position against several thousand. The same day, 
Thursday, early in the morning, General Reynolds despatched 
Britz and Pulver, two of the Bracken Rangers, and a tele- 
graphic operator, with orders to Colonel Kimball. Not more 
than, a mile from Elk Water, the messengers were warned 
by pickets of hidden danger along the bridle-path. Glimpses 
of horses, tied in thickets, confirmed report and suspicion ; but 
Britz, who carried the despatches, was resolved to proceed. 
His comrades contended that to return would be in accord- 
ance with orders. Britz would hear no argument. " Go 
back, if you will," he said, " but the first obstacle shall not 
turn me from what I have undertaken. I'll go on if it cost 
me my life!" With that, he put spurs to his horse, and 
the spirited animal sprang up the broken path. Unwilling 
to desert their daring comrade, yet unwilling to proceed, the 
others followed more slowly. Suddenly the sound of rifles 
from behind the thickets ! Rifles of the unseen foe ! The 
bold Britz fell, shot through the head, and dead on the instant. 


In turning, the telegrapher's horse stumbled and rolled down 
a steep declivity, crashing through bush and brier at least a 
hundred feet. Two days after, the man came into camp, 

Alarmed for the safety of Colonel Kimball, General Rey- 
nolds determined to force communication with the Summit, 
and he ordered the Second Virginia and the Third Ohio to 
cut their way by the path, and the Thirteenth to do the 
same by the road. The two commands started at three on 
Tuesday morning. They met with no opposition, and arrived 
at the Summit to find the camp rejoicing over the repulse 
of what was supposed to be mere reconnoitring parties. 

On this same day, Captain Stough, of the Nineteenth, had 
a sharp engagement with a small number of horsemen, and 
carried from the field the body of an officer shot by Sergeant 
Lieber. That dead officer was a handsome man ; but it was 
not his robust beauty and strength, lying in the helplessness of 
death, that hushed the group gathered around him in camp ; 
it was his name — Washington. The dead man was John 
A. Washington, who made the burial-place of the Father of 
his Country a thing of merchandise. His treason was in 
accordance with his character, yet it was not in accordance 
with the laws of nature : — 

" For not at once 

Begets a house, a demigod, or monster ; 
Only a line of evil or of noble 
Brings forth at last the wretch to curse, or him 
Who showers blessings." * 

Men, rough in speech and thought, were conscious of the 
unfitness of his name. "What will George say to John when 
he goes up ? " one asked of a comrade. " John will never go 
up," replied the other, gravely. 

Saturday and Sunday very strong forces attempted flank 

* " Demi es erzeugt nicht gleich 

Ein Haus den Halbgott noch das Ungeheuer; 
Erst eine Reihe Boser oder Guter 
Bringt endlich das Entsetzen, bringt die Freude 
Der Welt hervor." 

Goethe's Iphigenie auf Tauris. 


movements, but with no better success than on the preced- 
ing day. General Lee then gathered up his troops and 
retired, his rear completely routed on the retreat by the Thir- 
teenth Indiana. The roads were left full of knapsacks, guns, 
and other proofs of the fatigue and alarm of the Confederates. 

Seldom has a plan, so well laid as that of General Lee, 
so well and boldly carried out to the very last stage, failed 
so completely. 

The mountains were climbed, the rear of the Union camps 
was gained ; the camps were surrounded, and attacked re- 
peatedly from every quarter. Lee's force was overwhelming 
in numbers ; yet he could find no vulnerable point, and did 
not succeed in gaining a single salute from the batteries 
within the intrenchments. The communication between the 
camps was obstructed but one day. His failure was no dis- 
credit to him. It was due alone to the sleepless vigilance 
of General Reynolds and his officers, and the number and the 
daring of the scouting parties. Meeting armed men at every 
turn and at every step of advance, the Confederates imag- 
ined their number discovered, and their enemy in force ; 
while the Federal troops in almost every instance supposed 
themselves engaging small scouting parties, and were re- 
joiced rather than elated at the series of victories. 

Colonel Kimball had lost popularity since he had been 
among the mountains, from an unfortunate use of the word 
" machine," which, in insisting upon the necessity of discipline, 
he had applied to the soldier. To the Volunteer, fresh from 
the unrestrained and independent life of the American cit- 
izen, the term was suggestive only of the slavish life and 
character of the European soldier, and was, in consequence, 
inexpressibly distasteful. Probably no overt act on the part 
of one in authority, and certainly no word, could have been 
equally offensive. But in the hour of danger, Colonel Kim- 
ball showed himself so skilful in plan, so prompt in action, 
so watchful, so brave, and so regardless of his own comfort 
and safety, that the Volunteers, as generous in acknowledg- 
ing merit as they were jealous of an invasion of personal 
dignity, not only forgave the obnoxious term, but gave to 
the Colonel the most hearty admiration and confidence. 


Our loss in the engagements was singularly small — nine 
killed, two missing, and sixty prisoners. The killed from 
Indiana, besides those already mentioned, were two of the 
Fourteenth and two of the Fifteenth. 

The ambulance, sent to bring in the remains of Junod and 
Winder, returned empty ; the affectionate sharers of their dan- 
ger insisting on carrying the dead in their arms. 

The funeral ceremonies were performed the day of Lee's 
retreat. The scene was solemn and was rendered peculiarly 
impressive by the unusual circumstances and surroundings, — 
the tall dark firs and hoary rocks, the piercing wail of the 
trumpet and fife, the parting salute over the graves, and above 
all that strange feeling of nearness to the Unseen, which comes 
oftener and more thrillingly to the sojourner on the moun- 
tain-top than to the inhabitant of the plain. 

Successful as was General Reynolds's repulse of Lee, he 
was convinced of the necessity of reinforcements, and ear- 
nestly represented his need to Governor Morton and to the 
War Department. Without waiting for orders from the 
Department, Governor Morton immediately sent to his aid 
the Seventh and Ninth Indiana, which were barely organized. 
When Milroy received orders to move, the regiment was not 
full, but he obtained permission to complete the number from 
the Twenty-eighth Indiana, Wjhich was recruiting at the same 
place. Orders from the War Department came the day after 
the regiments left. 

During the latter part of September and the first of Octo- 
ber, the light showers, common to all mountain regions, gave 
place to furious storms. Quiet brooks, which in summer 
wind their rippling way around the rocks, and gently wash 
the bared roots of pine and oak, now tore rocks and trees 
from their foothold or dashed over them, sweeping along every 
less firm obstacle. Summer breezes became roaring, howling, 
shrieking blasts. The motionless mist was swept away by 
a dull, driving army of clouds. 

The night of September 27th was fearful. Rain fell in 
torrents. The blast through the narrow gorge of Elk Water 
was like the pealing of a gigantic trumpet. The trembling 
tents started from their foundations. The Elk rose, and 


dashed down a great part of the fortifications, ana threat- 
ened to carry away blankets, clothing, and men. 

None were so exposed in these autumn storms as the pickets 
at their distant and solitary posts. A little party of soldiers 
sometimes watched for days together in some untravelled 
bridle-path or on some ledge of rocks, where the stillness of 
day was not less than that of night, and was never broken 
except by the rattle of the creeping snake, the stealthy step 
of the mountain-fox, or the cry of some more savage animal. 
The squirrel and rabbit live in milder regions ; birds also seek 
a warmer climate. There could be few severer tests of physi- 
cal courage than the dreary beat of these distant sentinels. 
One night, a single Ranger was riding along the mountain, 
through a forest which added its shade to the darkness of 
a moonless and cloudy sky. Unable to see, and therefore 
unable to pick his way, he proceeded slowly, his horse's hoofs, 
now crushing a dead limb, now starting a loose stone, alone 
breaking the stillness. Suddenly a rustle, a gleam, the quick 
springing and trampling of feet! Almost before the thought 
of bushwhackers could form itself, a line of motionless fig- 
ures stood before him. That creeping, icy terror, which in a 
moment of awful danger is not unknown to the stoutest 
heart, froze his blood. He waited the deadly click of the 
rifle. A minute, and no sound ; another, still no sound. 
Then, to the equal amazement and relief of horseman and 
horse, the foe turned, and swiftly leaping back into the forest, 
revealed a body of startled deer. 

The storms of September converted the turnpikes into long 
and deep stretches of mud ; and wagons were three and even 
four days coming from Webster, fifty miles, whence all army 
stores and mail-matter were brought. Government horses 
suffered sadly, drivers, in their impatience, neglecting alike 
the dictates of humanity and honesty. 

With the first week of October, the storms passed away ; 
and the sun — shining over forests lighted up with the glo- 
rious hues of autumn, the dying leaf only the more brilliant 
from its proximity to the fadeless needle of the evergreen — 
revealed a magnificence double that of summer. 

During the summer and the greater part of the fall, the 


troops suffered for want of proper clothing. They had 
scarcely built their fortifications before they felt the necessity 
of a warmer dress, July though it was. General Reynolds 
sent a requisition for overcoats, but it received no attention. 
A second requisition met with no better success. He applied 
to Governor Morton, but it was long before even Governor 
Morton was able to elicit anything but despatches from neg- 
lectful officials. Agents asserted that clothing had been 
bought ; clothiers, that it had been sold ; railroad-men, that 
it had passed over the road. The information and reports 
seemed satisfactory and accurate. But no clothing reached 
the Cheat Mountains, and no railroad official could ever trace 
its route. Three messengers, sent on an exploring expedition, 
returned unsuccessful. A fourth, while burrowing in a ware- 
house on the Kanawha, to his surprise and delight, came 
upon several boxes of United States uniforms. They had 
been soaked in a freshet, and had lain until they had rotted, 
and were now useless. But the discovery added the impetus 
of hope to the search. More boxes were found. Yet thou- 
sands of suits were not discovered and not accounted for. 
Though there never has been an exposure of all the cir- 
cumstances, it is certain that greedy men caused much suf- 
fering to our faithful and patient soldiers that summer and 

During the search and investigation, the Volunteers con- 
tinued their acquaintance with mountain breezes and storms, 
their tatters flying like flags, their blue fingers showing the 
grip of ague, and their bare feet steadily pursuing the guard's 
rough round. Not until November was passing into De- 
cember did rags yield to whole and comfortable garments. 
He who would rob our Government or our soldiers, is capa- 
ble of any crime, and incapable of any virtue. 

General Lee went to the Kanawha region, immediately 
after his unsuccessful attempt upon the Federal fortifications, 
and left General H. R. Jackson with a large force strongly 
intrenched ten or twelve miles southeast of Cheat Mountain 
Summit, on a series of natural terraces, which form the slope 
of one of the Alleghany Mountains, and which offer an ex- 
traordinarily advantageous position for defence. The valley at 


the base of this slope is almost oval in form, encircled by hills, 
and terminated at the northwest extremity by the Cheat Moun- 
tain, on the Summit of which had so long been Colonel Kim- 
ball's head-quarters. Its width varies from two miles to 
half a mile ; its direct length, from the foot of one range to 
the foot of the other, is little more than six miles. At the base 
of the Cheat the road crosses a branch of the Greenbrier ; at 
the foot of the Alleghany it crosses the Greenbrier. On the 
road at the river-crossing stood a tavern called the "■ Travel- 
ler's Repose," and at a little distance a mill. The fortifica- 
tions began immediately behind these houses, the mill-race 
serving as a moat for parts of two sides, and extended into 
the forest which crowned the Summit and which stretched 
down to the water's edge, completely concealing a great part 
of the defences, especially on the left flank. Particulars in 
regard to the position and strength of this camp, called Camp 
Bartow, were unknown to General Reynolds, and, as the val- 
ley was held by Rebel pickets, their line extending to the very 
base of the Cheat, could be obtained only by a reconnoissance 
in force. 

In consequence, he determined, in the latter part of Septem- 
ber, to make an armed reconnoissance, and sent the Ninth 
and Fifteenth in advance from Elk Water to the Summit. 
The commencement of the expedition was not auspicious. 
Having been ordered not to encumber themselves with bag- 
gage, the men were without tents, and, during four days' 
detention on the bleak Summit, were exposed, entirely 
unsheltered, to fiercely inclement weather. Crouching amid 
rocks and brush, in water and mud, they endured a rain which 
poured down forty-eight hours without a moment's cessation. 
The cold was so bitter, and the want of sleep so exhausting, 
that some of those brave and patient men, uninured as they 
yet were to hardship, wept like children ; and the officers, 
Milroy especially, full of affectionate concern and sympathy, 
often felt their own eyes blinded with tears during those ter- 
rible hours. A number sank under the exposure and w^ere 
carried to the hospital. The suffering was not confined to 
the men, — several horses and mules died from the cold. 

At midnight of October 2d, the movement towards Green- 


brier began. The force consisted of about five thousand : 
three Ohio regiments, two batteries, and a part of a third ; 
three cavalry companies, Bracken's Indiana, Greenfield's Penn- 
sylvania, and Robinson's Ohio ; and the Seventh, Ninth, 
Thirteenth, Fourteenth, Fifteenth, and Seventeenth Indiana. 
The four last-named regiments had been greatly reduced by 
exposure, hard service, and sickness. In September, when 
Lee made his onset, the few sick threw down their blankets, 
snatched up their guns, and ran from the hospitals to the 
ranks ; but now about half the men, as they were roused at 
midnight, lay and listened to the heavy tread of the depart- 
ing force with only a languid interest. The Ninth led the 
advance. The night was dark. The march was in silence, 
except when trees had to be chopped from the road. At 
daylight they arrived at the bridge over the north branch of 
the Greenbrier, about four miles from the Confederate Camp. 
A lively skirmish took place here between Confederate pickets 
and two companies of the advance. One of the Ninth was 
killed, and another slightly wounded. The pickets retreated 
rapidly ; and the Ninth dashed after them, not stopping 
until ordered to halt, within two miles of the Rebel camp, 
for the artillery. 

The front of Camp Bartow was hidden from view by a 
densely wooded hillock, which in its thickets now sheltered 
between six and eight hundred of the enemy. Colonel Kim- 
ball was ordered to clear a place on this knoll for Loomis's 
Battery, Colonel Milroy and Colonel Dumont to march along 
the river to the right, and be prepared to give assistance if 
needed. With a shout, the ragged Fourteenth rushed up the 
hill-side. A warm contest ensued. The Confederates fought 
with a spirit they had not before shown, and yielded the 
ground only as they were driven. The Ninth and Seventh 
pouring on their flank, they were forced to the left, their own 
right, and back to their fortifications. 

Within about seven hundred yards of the intrenchments, 
the National troops halted, and throwing themselves on their 
faces, lay nearly an hour, while an artillery duel took place 
over them. It was a singular situation, at least for raw 
troops, — Loomis and Howe and Daum in their rear, Confed- 


erate cannon booming in their front, the mountains echoing 
the hollow roar of guns and multiplying the shrill shriek of 
shells. Yet in spite of novelty, tumult, and danger, some 
of the men were so weary that they fell asleep. 

During the hottest of the firing, rockets were observed to go 
up from the camp ; and soon after reinforcements of perhaps 
five thousand were seen coming down the road behind the 
enemy. General Reynolds, who stood on a knoll in a line 
with the batteries, was able to observe the movements of both 
armies without a glass. He thought the Confederate force, 
before the arrival of the reinforcements, amounted to about 
five thousand ; and he did not consider it prudent to continue 
the attack, especially as he had gained the information he 
desired. But some appearance on the part of the enemy of 
a movement on our left flank, and the urgent entreaty of the 
officers who surrounded him, induced General Reynolds to 
give orders for an attack on the enemy's right. For this pur- 
pose the troops supporting the batteries were hastily sum- 
moned ; and the Rebel troops w T ere met by the Seventh, 
Fourteenth, and Fifteenth Indiana, and the Twenty-fourth 
Ohio. The Seventh, a raw regiment, which had as yet 
scarcely heard the sound of cannon, was put in the van, and 
received a furious storm of balls. Some say it hesitated, oth- 
ers, authority as good, assert that it not only held its ground, 
but advanced. Certainly it did not run ; and when, after a 
short but fierce contest, orders to retire were given, the Sev- 
enth, as well as the other regiments engaged, retreated in good 

The desire to resume the attack was loudly and universally 
expressed, but the orders were peremptory, and the troops 
were obliged to turn their back to the enemy. They marched 
away slowly and sullenly, the Ninth bringing up the rear, and 
burning with indignation as cannon-balls and traitor cheers 
were hurled after them. They seized every pretext for linger- 
ing, in the hope of being pursued and forced into a decisive 
engagement. But the Confederates could not be enticed from 
their stronghold, and the Union troops reached Cheat Moun- 
tain Summit in safety and unmolested. They had marched 
twenty-four miles, and had been under fire four hours. 


The National loss was nine killed, six of these were Indian- 
ians ; thirty-two wounded, — an extremely small loss for so 
severe a combat. It is affecting to see in the list of the killed, 
after the name of J. Urner Price, a member of the Fourteenth, 
the simple remark, " He died a Christian as he had lived one." 

The Confederates had three guns disabled, and lost, accord- 
ing to their own account, fifty men. General Reynolds, whose 
estimation of numbers is always very moderate, reckoned 
their loss over two hundred. 

On the return the Seventh discovered, to its consternation, 
that its banner was missing. The color-bearer, called to 
account, was obliged to confess, that, when the troops sup- 
porting the batteries were ordered to throw themselves on the 
ground, he had put the banner, for safe-keeping, in a fence- 
corner, or against a tree, and having fallen asleep, had forgot- 
ten it when roused to join in the attack on the enemy's right. 

This ridiculous incident gave to the Seventh the title of 
Banner Regiment, — a title given in mockery, and received 
in some mortification, but fitting to be worn now in all honor 
by the men who fought at Port Republic. The battle of 
Greenbrier closed the campaign. 

Milroy had been appointed Brigadier-General, September 
3d ; but a brigade was not assigned to him until the second 
week in October, when he was given the command of the 
brigade at Cheat Summit. He at once commenced an active 
system of daily scouting, particularly in the direction of 
Greenbrier, which place he supposed General Reynolds would 
attack again. Milroy's scouts several times passed around 
Greenbrier Camp, and had skirmishes with the Rebels on all 
sides of the fortifications. The enemy began to think their 
position unsafe, especially as Jackson, who had now with- 
drawn from the Cheat Mountain region, had greatly dimin- 
ished their number; and they fell back nine miles, to a point 
on the Alleghanies, which they strongly fortified. 

General Milroy, with a portion of his forces, followed them 
up the day after they fell back ; he found a large amount of 
camp equipage about the deserted fortifications, with several 
pugnacious epistles addressed to him and his troops. He 
followed to the immediate vicinity of Alleghany Summit, 


where he captured a Georgia soldier, from whom he learned 
the situation and strength of the forces there. 

General Milroy gave his personal attention to every duty, 
and frequently hastened a lingering job with the strength and 
skill of his own arm. On one occasion, thinking that his 
men were long in repairing a bridge, he got off his horse and 
went into the water up to his waist, to assist in arrang- 
ing the logs. While he was at this work, a teamster came 
along and commenced cursing the men for their tardiness. 
The General looked up and said, " You look pretty stout ; 
suppose you give us a lift." "See you damned first!" was 
the surly reply. " Look here," said the General, " if you give 
us any more of your abuse, I'll come up there and pummel 
your head with a stone." The teamster went on, and soon 
met with an acquaintance of whom he inquired, " Who is 
that gray-headed cuss back there at the bridge ? He 's mighty 
sassy." "Why!" exclaimed the acquaintance, "that's our 
Old Gray Eagle !" The teamster, who already had had some 
misgivings, returned to apologize. 

Much time was spent in building substantial cabins. The 
sound of the axe and the saw, accompanied by joke and 
song, enlivened the forest, and gave promise of comfort to the 
coming winter. The last week in October the troops were 
inspected by Major Slemmer, of Fort Pickens' fame. He 
gave them high praise, not only for the cleanliness of their 
camps and clothes, and for the brightness of their arms, but 
for the superiority of their discipline. He ranked them among 
the best drilled in the service. 

October 28th, the Thirteenth left camp on a reconnoi- 
tring expedition through the southern part of Randolph, and 
through Webster county. They took no baggage, carried their 
provisions, which consisted of four days' rations, on mules, 
and were prepared with axes to chop their way. They 
plunged, almost at once, into a pathless wilderness, through 
which they were five days journeying. They were frequently 
obliged to cut a passage through dense thickets ; and once 
could find no place for their feet except in the bed of the 
Holly, which they traversed eight miles. They slept nightly 
on beds of moss, which were softer than the finest mattresses, 


but saturated with rain. The 1st of November, at noon, 
while they were at the foot of a steep mountain covered with 
trees and underbrush, a heavy volley was poured on them 
from above. Two companies immediately charged up the 
mountain, although no enemy was visible. They soon dis- 
covered the ambush, and drove the enemy back about three 
hundred yards. At this distance the Rebels rallied, and again 
seeking shelter, continued the fight for a very short time, 
when they fled. The Thirteenth, being already weary with a 
march of eighteen miles, encamped on the spot for the night. 
Beyond the Little Kanawha they discovered a block-house, 
evidently newly built. They approached with some caution 
but found, to their surprise and delight, that the garrison, con- 
sisting of nearly a hundred, was loyal. The mountaineers of 
the region, who were faithful to the Government, had found 
it necessary to defend themselves from the Moccasin Rangers, 
a military company sworn to exterminate Union citizens, 
and had just finished the fort, in which they expected to find 
protection until they could call for and receive assistance. 
The spectacle of sturdy patriotism afforded by these honest 
mountaineers repaid the soldiers for many a weary mile ; and 
the hearty sympathy and admiration they bestowed was not 
less grateful to the Virginians. They met and parted with 
the cordiality of brothers. 

The Thirteenth took the Rebel mail, on the line of commu- 
nication between two portions of the Rebel Army, a large 
quantity of Confederate money, and thirteen rancorous Seces- 
sionists, four of whom were bushwhacking at the time of 
their capture. The remaining seven belonged to the military 
company of which mention has already been made. The 
prisoners were preposterous specimens of humanity, savage 
and snaky, like Indians, — but stupid in countenance, drawling 
in speech, lathy in form, and dangling in movement. They 
evinced no distress, nor anxiety, nor curiosity, nor regret. 
They seemed passionless, yet they had shown themselves 
fearfully blood-thirsty. 

The Thirteenth reached camp, hungry, haggard, and dilap- 
idated, but well satisfied with having explored in nine days 
one hundred and eighty miles of the wildest region in "West 
Virginia. ' 


General Reynolds and the larger number of his troops 
were ordered to leave West Virginia about the first of De- 
cember. General Milroy was put in command of Cheat 
Mountain district, embracing the posts of Beverly, Hutton- 
ville, Elk Water, and Cheat Mountain ; and one regiment 
was assigned to each post. Being left to himself, with the 
Ninth Indiana, the Twenty-fifth and Thirty-second Ohio, 
Second Virginia, and Bracken's Cavalry, Milroy immediately 
commenced preparations to attack the Rebel works at Alle- 
ghany Summit. The Thirteenth Indiana, although under 
orders to leave, had not yet left Beverly on the 12th of De- 
cember; and General Reynolds, who was also still at Bev- 
erly, sent up about three hundred of the Thirteenth, and one 
hundred of the Thirty-second Ohio. These, with the Ninth 
Indiana, (five hundred,) Twenty-fifth Ohio, (four hundred,) 
Second Virginia, (two hundred and fifty,) and about thirty 
of the Rangers, moved on the 12th toward the Confederate 
camp. At Greenbrier, the old Camp Bartow, about eleven 
o'clock at night, Milroy divided his forces, and sent Colonel 
Moody with the Ninth and the Second Virginia to make a 
detour to the right for the purpose of reaching the left flank 
of the Rebels, which commanded the Staunton turnpike. 
Milroy left Greenbrier about an hour after Colonel Moody, 
and going on the direct road, reached the vicinity of the Con- 
federate works about daylight, a little later than the concerted 
time of attack. 

He sent his detachment to the left up the hill. At the top 
they fell in with a strong picket-guard, which they endeavored 
to capture, to prevent discovery, as they were directed to 
remain in the woods until they heard firing from Moody, 
at' the other side of the camp. A part of the pickets escaped 
and gave the alarm ; and when Milroy's detachment emerged 
from the woods, it was met by the whole Confederate force, 
about two thousand strong. After a desperate engagement 
of about half an hour, the enemy was driven into his works, 
which consisted of huts, built so that they formed fortifica- 
tions with a hollow square. Milroy's men charged gallantly 
in after them, and for a time held part of their works. They 
were forced back, but repulsed the Rebels with great loss to 


them every time they attempted to advance beyond their works. 
The fight was thus kept up until the Union troops had no 
more ammunition, and hearing nothing of Colonel Moody 
on the other side, became discouraged. General Milroy was 
reluctantly compelled to retire from the conflict. He carried 
with him his wounded, and thirty prisoners, and retired in 
good order. 

Scarcely had Milroy reached the base of the hill, when 
Moody arrived at the top on the other side. He had been 
detained, first by the wretched nature of the roads, afterwards 
by obstructions of trees and brush. Near the camp the 
obstructions were so great, it was almost impossible to 
advance. The sound of cannon seemed to restore the ex- 
hausted strength of his men. They made their way over 
breastworks and through ditches until the very last line was 
reached. There they fought four hours with fiery and desper- 
ate energy, but neither the valor nor skill of so small a force 
could avail against the whole Confederate power massed at 
this point ; and baffled, overcome, they were at last obliged to 
turn and retreat. 

Could Colonel Moody have attacked simultaneously with 
Milroy, there is little doubt that the assault would have been 
a complete success. As it was, it was a melancholy, an utter 

Costly blood sprinkled that Rebel hill ; and not the least 
precious was that of Joseph Gordon, a beautiful, brave youth, 
whose culture, talent, and lofty aspirations gave promise of a 
noble career. Shot in the forehead, he fell almost at the cab- 
ins of the enemy, and while his clear, young voice, calling to 
his comrades to " Come on ! " was still ringing through the 

The number of National troops killed was twenty-four ; 
wounded, one hundred and seven ; missing, ten. The exact 
amount of the enemy's loss is not known. 




During the months of August and September Bracken's 
"Rangers were employed night and day, — nearly all the time 
on half rations, seldom on full, frequently without any. Hay 
was furnished as it could be procured in the neighborhood ; 
corn and oats from Webster by wagon, a distance of over 
fifty miles. Early in October they were sent to Beverly to 
rest and to pasture the horses. In November they were 
recalled, excepting a small number, and scattered about among 
the different posts. Those remaining in Beverly had the 
county jail — a large, comfortable, two-story brick building — 
assigned them as winter-quarters. They had charge of the 
prisoners captured, conveying them from time to time to 
Grafton, for transportation to prison at Columbus, Ohio. 
This duty was severe, as it was performed in midwinter, 
when the roads were almost impassable. A progress of a 
mile an hour was " on time." When from necessity the 
speed was increased to a mile and a half an hour, both pris- 
oners and guard suffered and complained. 

The efforts of the members of the company to be Rangers 
not only in name but in fact, fully succeeded. They were to 
be found wherever there was " forage and rations," and some- 
times where there was neither. They made an unusual 
number of acquaintances. Even the Secesh girls, who had 
" cousins " in the Rebel Army, did not hesitate to give them 
a bright smile. This happy disposition to wander led to the 
discovery of the hiding-places of wild turkeys, geese, ducks, 
and such other animals as are accustomed to make sudden 
attacks on soldiers, biting them severely. Their quarters, 
New-Year's eve, were filled with these dangerous animals, 
the Rangers intending to guard them till high noon, when they 
would take ample satisfaction for all past sufferings. But 


the General had prepared a different feast. Daylight found 
them mounted, their horses' heads turned southward toward 
their old camping-ground at Huttonville. 

An expedition had been planned against Huntersville, a 
rendezvous and depot of supplies for the Rebel Army and 
guerrillas. Detachments from the Second Virginia, Twenty- 
fifth Ohio, Bracken's Cavalry (under Lieutenant Delzell), in 
all six hundred men, under the command of Major Webster, 
of the Twenty-fifth Ohio, formed the expedition. They 
encamped that night at Big Spring, — so named from one 
of the large and beautiful springs common in these moun- 
tains. No one in that command will forget the darkness 
of that night, or the terrible wind which swept down the 
mountain gorges. 

Taking a soldier's breakfast, the troops pushed on, not 
only success but their safety depending upon their reaching 
Huntersville before reinforcements could be sent there. The 
second night they encamped at the commencement of a 
blockade of the road made by Lee's army on its retreat from 
Elk Water the previous September. It was formed of felled 
trees, was a mile in extent, and in some places twenty feet 
high. It formed a complete defence, impassable even to a 
footman. Gathering pine boughs for beds, the troops clus- 
tered around the fires which lighted the gloomy aisles of the 
pine forest. The Rangers, as usual, faring better than their 
comrades, had saddles for pillows. Leaving the wagons the 
next morning, they scaled the mountain sides, the cavalry 
horses being led over untrodden paths. By ten o'clock they 
had reached the open road. At the bridge over Greenbrier 
River, the enemy was first discovered in strong works, pre- 
pared to dispute the passage ; but the cavalry fording the 
river above the bridge, the enemy fled without firing a gun. 

Major Webster pushed on to Huntersville, six miles dis- 
tant, meeting with no resistance, until reaching the valley 
in which the town is situated. The Rebels, strongly posted, 
opened fire upon the advancing troops, who instantly formed 
into line and charged into town. The Rebels retreated. It 
was but the work of an hour to destroy the village and a 
large amount of army stores. Major Webster immediately 


started on his return. He reached camp the seventh day, 
without the loss of a man. 

The Rangers resumed their usual occupation of scouting, 
guarding prisoners, and carrying messages, when Captain 
Bracken was ordered to proceed, via Buckhannon and 
Clarksburg, to Parkersburg. The place was reached about 
the first of February. Comfortable quarters and sufficient 
forage were for the first time furnished the horses. 




On the morning of the 26th of July, General Rey- 
nolds and staff left the little town of Webster, and took 
up the line of march southward along the Staunton 'pike. 
The day was hot and dusty. A few straggling soldiers were 
found along the road, — and occasionally an army-wagon 
came lumbering down the hills. One day's rations in our 
haversacks prevented our stopping by the way for dinner. 
So we rode steadily onward till we came to Philippi, where 
Clark and I called upon some of our old acquaintances, 
who were much surprised to see us, as they had bidden us 
good-bye only a few days before, expecting never to see us 
again. We told them that we had made up our minds to 
serve under the new General during the war. Philippi had 
resumed its business-looks, and we passed through, going 
on some six miles, and reached our camp on the farm of 
Mr. Thompson, — or the Half-way House, as it is called, being 
half-way between Philippi and Bealington. 

Early in the morning, as we were striking tents, Old 
Thompson came down and presented a bill of ten dollars 
for camping on his farm. General Reynolds asked if he was 
a Union man. He said he was; but nevertheless demanded 
damages for our lodgings; and received a damning at the 
hands of Captain Keyes of the First Pennsylvania Cavalry 
who was acting as escort to the General. 

We resumed our march, stopping a few moments at El- 
liott's, and at the old Rebel camp at Laurel Hill, where 
we took in a stranger, who proved to be Larz Anderson, 
brother of Major Anderson, (of Fort Sumter,) who was going 
to Beverly to see his sons, who were in the Sixth Ohio. We 
had quite a pleasant ride over a good road, through a pictu- 
resque country, not thickly inhabited, and at four p. >i. arrived 


at Beverly, where we made a halt of an hour, while General 
Reynolds gave some orders. Here we found the Sixth Ohio 
and First Virginia regiments, and Bracken's Indiana Cavalry. 

About five we started on southward, crossing and recrossing 
Tygart's Valley River, which grows smaller continually and 
more crooked, and more cramped in among the mountains. 
The scenery was grand and imposing. The narrow valley 
was locked in by mountain barriers, which seemed piled up, 
roll upon roll, away into the blue mists of the summer even- 
ing. We advanced along narrow passes, turned and crossed 
the river repeatedly, — and went on, — locked in by steeper, 
more wild and wrangled heaps of land and rock and woods : 
such was the journey on to Huttonsville. 

Huttonsville consists of a bridge, a barn, storehouse, man- 
sion, and stable, — all but the bridge belonging to Mr. Hutton. 
Crossing the river, and proceeding some three miles, we come 
to what seems the end of the valley, where we see in the 
twilight the flickering of a thousand camp-fires. We pass 
the sentinel, cross Tygart's Valley River once more, and find 
ourselves in camp at Cheat Mountain Pass. We ride down 
the clean wide streets, and halt before the tent of Colonel 
Sullivan, Thirteenth Indiana Volunteers, where we dismount 
from our weary horses, and partake of the Colonel's coffee ; 
and after listening to the band which serenade our General, 
we roll ourselves up in our blankets, and are soon dreaming 
as only a tired soldier can dream. 

July 28th, we were up early, trying to draw rations for 
our men ; but General Sleigh, who was then in command, 
would not sign a requisition. In fact, he would n't " attend 
to any d — d business" before nine in the morning. I did 
not feel like waiting for General Sleigh that long. I knew 
General Reynolds would take command that day, so I in- 
formed him what my opinion was of a young General who 
would lie there in his tent and keep fifty men hungry. He 
swore he would have that fool arrested, but did n't come out 
of his tent. I went to a wagon and took what provisions 
were needed, and at last we had our breakfast. In looking 
around the camp, I found several Indiana boys, all looking 
well and full of life. 



Camp Cheat Mountain Pass seemed shut in from all the 
world, for the mountains, with their tops lost in the cloudy- 
mist, stand up on every side. 

On the east side of the camp was the pass out of the 
valley. Upon the highest peak, from the tallest pine-tree, 
waved the Stars and Stripes. 

On the 28th, by order of General Reynolds, Clark, John- 
ston, and myself explored the mountains on the east, to find 
if it was possible for the enemy to make any approach from 
that side. We found this wilderness of woods uninhabited 
and inaccessible, except to deer and bear, or the most ener- 
getic scouts. 


In the evening I examined a few men who resided south- 
ward among the mountains, and who were fleeing from the 
Rebels, as Union men. I drew from their description a map, 
giving every house, and the name and supposed sentiments 
of the inhabitants. 

On the morning of the 29th of July, General Reynolds 
and staff went up the mountain to the camp and fortifica- 
tions situated on the top. The day was very pleasant. The 
road is good, — winding, serpent-like, up the mountain-side. 
Large trees, overhanging, shut out the sky above, and looking 
downward, we see tree-tops pointing upward to us. We can 
see the camp of Cheat Mountain Pass, like a map, in the 
valley. The river winds away into the hidden passes that 
give it outlet to the country beyond. The flag which, at the 
pass, seemed so high above us, now is a speck at our feet, 
which we can scarcely discern as it plays in the wild breeze. 
Up higher yet among the mist, and we arrive at the top. 
Here we find a level, where some bold farmer has located. 
Yes, on a mountain-top we find fertile fields and springs. 
This peculiarity of this branch of the Alleghany Mountains 
has given it the name of Rich Mountain Range. We spent 
some hours reviewing the works, and went to the very front 
and watered our hordes in Cheat River. I thought what a 
pleasant trip it would be to start at its head-waters, and 
follow its foaming current to where it empties into the Mo- 

I asked Clark where it came from. He replied it came 
from the " Big Spring," to whose waters were added a thou- 
sand other mountain springs, but the Big Spring, or " divid- 
ing waters," gave it birth. 

" We will take a trip up that way some day," said I. 

July 30th, Clark and I were arranging our tent, when Gen. 
Reynolds called us to him, and informed us that the enemy 
were supposed to be somewhere in the neighborhood of the 
Big Spring, and he wanted us to go out on the Huntersville 
road and learn the situation of the enemy. He ordered us to 
ride our horses as far as the pickets, and then go on foot, and 
to report to him by the next evening. It was then about 7 
a. M., and one of the pleasantest days we had had. We were 


soon mounted. With a little hard bread in our pockets, and 
our revolvers in our belts, we were ready for a two days' 
scout. Clark had on a pair of dark pants, an army shirt, and 
a green flannel frock, — formerly a part of the uniform of the 
(Rebel) Washington Battery, which had been given to him 
by General Morris after the battle of Cheat River, — and 
a black felt hat, the worse for wear. I had put on a dark 
frock-coat of Clark's, a felt hat belonging to our ambulance- 
driver, and a pair of gray pants, also captured among Rebel 
uniforms at Cheat River. 

After starting, Clark says, " Fletcher, I don't like this 
going on foot. Suppose we ask to go all the way, or as far as 
we choose, on our horses." " I am in the habit of obeying or- 
ders just to the letter without questioning, but will venture to 
ask a change in this case." So we rode back ; but the General 
did not change his order, and away we went. On the road 
leading southwest from camp, and right up Tygart's Valley 
River, which we cross and recross any number of times, we 
saw some men lounging by Conrad's Mills, and asked a few 
questions, which were answered in a manner that led us to 
think they were " Secesh." An hour's ride and we came to 
the picket, six miles out. We gave an officer of the picket 
General Reynolds's order to move four miles further and take 
charge of our horses. 

We left our horses with the picket, by a little log house, 
which had long been deserted, or perhaps had been built 
for a country school-house, and so little used that trees had 
grown up under the eaves, hiding it from view. 

After firing off our revolvers and reloading, we started off 
down the road. Passing a few deserted farms, we found the 
country more broken, the valley narrower, and the river cross- 
ing and recrossing the road every few yards. Soon we came 
to a little farm-house, where a young man was mending a 
harrow near the door. 

" Can we get dinner here ? " I asked. " I reckon," was the 
reply. We then had some conversation about the country. 
He said the " Yankees had taken his corn, and paid him for 
it in Ohio money, which he could not use. But he did not 
seem inclined to speak out his Rebel feelings, as he did not 


know how we stood. His wife came to the door ; she was of 
the dish-rag and broomstick sort. 

" How long will it be till we have dinner ? " Mr. Clark 
asked. " Jist when you git it," said she, going into the house, 
saying something about " nasty Yankees." We moved on, 
giving up all idea of dinner at that house. Some two miles 
brought us to another cabin, where we found a native, with a 
wife and nine children, — the oldest about sixteen, — and all 
living in one small room. Each had a corn-cob pipe ; — 
even the baby was playing with one. 

The old lady made us some corn-cake, and fried some salt 
pork, to which we did full justice. 

This man lived on neutral ground, which neither Yankees 
nor Rebels frequented, and he seemed to have no opinions him- 
self; in fact, he knew as little as most of the wild men of 
West Virginia, — nothing but what some cross-road stump- 
speaker had said. He knew nothing of the country beyond ; 
a high bluff near the house he had never been on, and thought 
there might be a " heap of rattlesnakes " up there. We paid 
for our dinner, and once more bent our steps southward. 
The scenery was grand, the valley lonesome, the road and 
river winding across each other at the very bottom of the nar- 
row valley. We met no one, and saw but one man, who, of 
course, knew nothing by nature and less by cultivation, till 
we came into a little settlement, at Mingo Flats, where we 
saw three women standing in the door of a rather respectable- 
looking frame-house. It was near 5 p. m., and we were quite 
tired, — I, at least. I asked if we could stay all night. They 
told us that we could find a good place a few miles further on. 
They asked if we were soldiers, and from which army, and 
seemed very kind. We asked if any of the Confederates had 
been there lately. They said, none for two weeks ; they 
had all gone into camp at Huntersville ; and, in answer to 
our inquiry, it was four miles to the Big Spring, where we 
could stay all night. 

Bidding them good-night, we trudged on up a high hill, 
leaving the valley to our left. Our road was over mountain- 
spurs, and very tedious travelling. Some two miles further 
on, we noticed the tracks of horses, — fresh ones, too, — and 


the mark of a pistol-ball on an oak-tree. We now began to 
look sharply about us, for we knew that Rebel Cavalry had 
been there. 

The sinking sun had now cast the mountain-shadow upon 
our path, and the way was more gloomy. I was so tired, it 
was only by slow walking and great effort I could follow, — 
stopping here and there to listen, or still oftener to drink from 
the springs which all along come gurgling up from the rocks. 
A fever seemed working in my veins. My companion and I 
had talked freely all day, but now both were silent. We had 
stopped for a moment, when we heard a horseman coming 
toward us ; and, looking up the narrow road, saw a native, 
with an old horse, and a green hunting-shirt on, coming up. 
We stopped him and asked the distance to the " Big Spring." 
He thought it was about two miles. He said he had seen no 
one on the road ; no soldiers had been in these parts for more 
than two weeks. 

We started on, my companion wishing to go from the road 
and take to the forest ; but the craggy appearance was unin- 
viting to my weary limbs, and I said, " No ; let us keep the 
path till we come to a more level spot." So on we went. I 
thrust my staff into the damp ground, wondering if I would 
take it up again in the morning. The road was beginning a 
gentle descent ; the last gleams of the sun tinged the high 
mountain-tops and the clouds before us. A death-like still- 
ness pervaded the scene around us, broken only by the note of 
a solitary whippoorwill and the sound of our own steps, which 
seemed to fall heavy on the damp ground. Directly in front 
of us, at a distance of a hundred yards, stood a large oak-tree. 

My companion came to a halt. " I saw a man move be- 
hind that tree. Let us take to the woods, and go around." 
" No ; I think you are mistaken. I can make out any form 
I wish to on dark and shadowy evenings. I think it 's imagi- 

He fell back near me, and we approached the spot, I almost 
heedlessly; and just as we neared the oak, — " Halt! Halt! 
Halt ! " greeted us from every bush, tree, stump, and stone. 
My companion, who was watching for this very thing, leaped 
backward, with his revolver drawn, ready for battle. 


The ambuscade was well laid, for just here was an open 
space, where it was much lighter than any place along the 
road. " What are you stopping citizens here for, in the public 
highway ? " said I. " Surrender ! " said a tall Rebel, who 
seemed to be in command, and who had a long deer-rifle, 
with hair-trigger, levelled at my breast. (I could hear my 
companion saying, in a low voice, " Run, Fletcher, run ! ") 
" "What do you want of us ? What will you do if we sur- 
render ? " " Only take you to camp ; and then, if you are all 
right, let you go." "Run, Clark, run!" said I: "I can't." 
" Just you stand still. If your friend moves, I '11 blow you to 
h — 1 ! " said the tall Alabamian. I looked about me ; bayo- 
nets and old rifles were looking at me. I felt too tired to 
attempt a leap into the bushes, and raying, "I surrender!" 
threw my revolver on the ground. Clark lowered his, which 
had been pointed at the tall man all the time,* and said, " I '11 
go with you, then." 

Approaching me, he said, in a whisper almost, " What shall 
we tell them ? " " Truth only, and as little as possible." So, 
under guard, without arms, we were marched down a wind- 
ing way, a mile perhaps, when we heard laughter and singing, 
and soon came in sight of a two-story log house, with steps 
up the outside to the first floor. We were at the " Big 
Spring," our intended destination ; but this was not our in- 
tended condition. 

" Who is you all ? " said a half-dozen voices, and a crowd 
of homespun fellows crowded around us. 

We refused to answer questions except to the commanding 
officer, who soon made his appearance in the shape of a plain, 
honest-looking man, Captain Bird, of the Sixth Alabama Regi- 
ment. " Where are you from, men ? " " We are soldiers 
from the Federal Army, — were out scouting under orders, — 
and walked into your ambuscade." I gave also my real 
name and rank. Turning to Mr. Clark, he asked his name 
and what State he was from. " I am from Wood County, 
Virginia. My name is Leonard Clark. I am a soldier in the 

* Mr. Clark did not fire, because he knew it would cause my death ; and 
gave himself up, — " For," said he, " I never could live happy had I left you 
in that time of trouble." 


Union Army." " Don't you know, sir," said a Rebel officer 
who stood by, stepping up in an excited manner, — "don't 
you know you are guilty of the most damnable treason, tak- 
ing up arms against your native State, and leading the Yan- 
kee Abolitionists to our homes, to burn our houses, and rape 
our women, and steal our niggers ? I '11 cut your damned heart 
out ! " and he made a pass at Clark with his drawn sword. 
" I am your prisoner. I demand to be treated as a prisoner 
of war." " You do not deserve to be treated as a prisoner of 
war — but as a black-hearted traitor to your State. Did n't 
you know, sir, that your State was voted out of the Union ? 
and you have no right to serve against her." 

" I know," said Clark, standing like a statue, firm and fear- 
less, with an eye fixed on his accuser, which made him fear 
and tremble, — "I know Virginia — free Virginia — is now 
said to be out of the Union ; but Virginia is only ruled by 
despotism, and was voted out by force." I shall never forget 
the tableau which ensued after this speech. The crowd 
which seemed ready to tear him to pieces was only held back 
by the iron face which showed no change, and the eye that 
flashed truth and fearlessness. But a pang of sorrow came, 
for I saw that Clark's position was one even worse than my 
own ; — he would find persons who knew him, and enemies 
who would like to condemn him ; but I was unknown, and 
did not fear meeting any one. 

We were taken up the old wooden stairway, and put into 
the room which was occupied by the soldiers. Captain Bird 
said they could not give us much .to eat, as they had just 
come there, and their baggage had not come up. Some corn- 
bread and a tin-cup full of coffee were given us. I remarked 
I'd rather have Lincoln bread, and took some of our hard 
bread from my pocket, which amused the fellows very much ; 
they wanted a bit of it, to keep as a trophy. My papers, 
map, &c. were still in my pocket, and weighed on my mind. 
On the fire-shelf was a corn-cob pipe. I filled it, and draw- 
ing my papers out, stripped them through my hand slowly, as 
though to make a lighter, and, touching them to the blaze, 
puffed away till all were burned, without attracting any at- 
tention. We were surrounded by a crowd of curious ques- 


tioners. I talked with the intention of amusing, and created 
quite a laugh occasionally. Clark was silent. 

Two women came in to see the Yankees, — wives of offi- 
cers, I suppose. They were quite bitter in their remarks. They 
knew we were spies, and had no doubt our capture prevented 
our poisoning the spring, and murdering the babes of 
women whose husbands were gone to the war. 

Two guards were stationed at the door. The soldiers 
threw themselves on the floor each side of us, and all be- 
came quiet within ; but outside I could hear the clatter of 
horses and the striking of sabres and stirrups. I saw Cap- 
tain Bird pass through the room with papers, and heard him 
order the guard to be doubled, and every man be on the look- 
out. And then I heard the horsemen dash off. All became 
still again, except occasional crackling of the dying embers in 
the huge old fireplace, and the low whispering of the guard 
at the door.' I could hear them speculate as to our future, 
— whether we were really spies or not, — and if we would be 
shot or hung. " I would like to put a hole through that d — d 
fellow in the green jacket," said one. " I '11 bet I could whip 
ten Yankees like that smart fellow that thinks he can laugh 
it all off. I'll bet he'll swing." Such was the conversation 
of the night, whenever I roused up from a sleep made hor- 
rid by dreams. But, thank God, morning came at last. I 
wanted to be moving. What I dreaded most was time, — 
like a boy dreading a whipping, — more dreadful by delay. I 
wanted events to transpire with rapidity. 

Early morning, and everything seemed like a dream. I 
was taken out by a guard of three men to the Big Spring, 
which gushes out of the rocks in a stream as large as a man's 
body. I bathed my aching head in its cold waters. As the 
bubbles danced under my eye, I thought, O that I could dance 
and whirl on the sparkling stream down Cheat River, where 
I stood two days before with Clark, asking where the Big 
Spring was. I saw that we were to be closely watched, — 
three or four guards with each of us wherever we went. I 
noticed a Rebel lieutenant in the house as I returned, who 
had been our prisoner a few weeks before ; he had been pa- 
roled by McClellan, and was now here, apparently on duty. 


After a breakfast of cold corn-bread, we were marched out 
in front of the cabin, and Captain Bird ordered a squad of 
men to guard us. " It 's customary," said he, " to tie our pris- 
oners ; but if you will promise not to attempt to escape, you 
shall not be tied.'' " It is not customary," said I, " to tie our 
prisoners ; your men captured by us were hardly guarded ; 
but if you think six armed and mounted men can't guard 
us, you must have little confidence in them." After search- 
ing us, and taking every article from us except a small drink- 
ing-cup which I had, and our clothing, we were told that we 
were going to be sent to head-quarters. — that we were cap- 
tured under very suspicious circumstances. 

He (Captain Bird) then charged the mounted guard, who 
were to take us, to march us between them ; not to let us 
talk : and to shoot us if we attempted to move from the 
road. Thus we left the Big Spring, — six horsemen, armed 
with old horse-pistols and double-barrelled shot-guns, as an 
escort. AYe found the country very wild, as we went south- 
ward, and noticed that we were almost constantly descending 
steep hills, while the day before we were constantly ascend- 
ing. Durinof the forenoon we met lonsr trains of wagons and 
hundreds of soldiers, all going on up toward the Spring. 

Clark and I both felt our situation was one which would 
need great patience, for the insulting remarks of many as 
they passed were almost unbearable. Sometimes we were 
permitted to ride a. short distance behind some of the men. 
At noon, after we had descended a very steep hill, we came 
into a beautiful valley, where we found a large camp of about 
four thousand men. The situation of the camp was most 
beautiful, and the grounds were kept very clean and closely 

The sergeant marched us around to the south side, where 
we were halted before the tent of Colonel Lee, — a son of 
Major- General Lee. The sergeant dismounted, went into his 
tent, and the Colonel came to the door with some papers in 
his hand, from which he read, and then looked at us sharply 
for a moment, while I looked as sharply in return. He was a 
man of medium size ; hair and beard a little sprinkled with 
gray. His face indicated great sternness. He gave some 


orders to a major, who said to me, " I shall be obliged to 
put you in irons." At the same time an orderly produced a 
pair of those unbecoming and uncomfortable jewels, which 
he began to unlock to put on. 

" Is it customary to put captured soldiers in irons ? " said I. 

" You have heard of the battle of Bull Run, have n't you ? 
Well, these irons were captured by our men from you Yan- 
kees. You intended to put them on our men and march 
them to Richmond, but we intend to make every Yankee 
wear them that we capture." 

While I put out my wrist for the cursed fetters, I told the 
major that I did not believe one word of any handcuffs being 

He assured me it was so, and that all the officers of the 
Yankee army had their baggage marked " Richmond, Va." 
He also informed us that General Scott was captured, and 
his fine carriage, etc., etc. All the Southern brag that could 
be brought up, he furnished on this occasion. 

This camp is, or was, known as Edri, — half-way between 
Big Springs and Huntersville. 

After our irons were secure, Clark and I both wristed 
together, we were taken by a guard to a brick house, which 
was quite large, and put in an upper room, on the outside 
of which two sentinels were placed. We sat on the floor 
some moments, when a man came in with some cold corn- 
bread and milk. He took off the irons, that we might eat. 
He then retired. 

Soon we heard a noise outside, as though some one was 
fighting, or trying to get away. The sound grew louder, and 
our door was unlocked, when a tall, well-dressed Virginian, 
heavily ironed, was thrown into our room, with apparent 
force. The door was again shut, and we three sat for a 
moment in silence ; when our new fellow-prisoner said, " Don't 
give it up, men ! I was captured at the same place you 
were, last night. I 'm not going to back out for these d — d 
traitors ; it a'n't my way. I 've been leading Rosecrans and 
General McClellan, and I am not done yet ! Where are 
you from, boys ? Don't look down. We '11 be even, by . 


Come, be social. You don't say a word ; you 're scared, I 

" We are not very badly scared," said I ; " and as I have 
seen first-class players, real stars on the boards, I can't 
compliment your acting ; you overdo it ; and, besides, we are 
not trying to make many new acquaintances down here." 

This seemed to act like a cold shower-bath. The sergeant 
(who, with others, had evidently been listening to us at the 
door) now came in and abused our new prisoner, in all the 
rough Southern cant phrases, for being a Union man ; and 
finally took him out of the room by great force, as though 
to carry him to his execution. " Clark, we won't be caught 
by stool-pigeons." 

About tw T o p. m. we were ironed and put in an old wagon, 
with soldiers on each side, besides an escort of mounted men ; 
and thus we travelled down the mountain slopes, through 
a wild country. We met two or three regiments marching 
up, and at the crossing of Greenbrier River some large 
wagon-trains, — all going one way, viz: up towards the 
Cheat Mountains. At last, just as the sun w T ent down, we 
came through the pass into the little town of Huntersville, 
county seat of Pocahontas County. 

Our escort seemed at a loss what to do with us, or where 
to leave us. So, driving up through the streets to the hotel, 
he gave us a good view of the camp, which was very large, 
situated all about the village. I think not less than seven 
thousand men must have been in this camp. 

After we had been waiting some time in front of the hotel, 
where we were the centre of a crowd of curious questioners, 
and where Clark was recognized by some old acquaintances, 
we were driven back the road we had come, about a mile, 
to a camp of the Forty-second Virginia Regiment, Colonel 
Gilham* commanding; and here Clark and I were taken from 
the wagon, and marched off in different directions. I saw 
no more of him for several days. As for myself, I felt now 
miserable indeed to lose my companion in trouble. I had 
little time to grieve, however, before I was ushered into the 

* Formerly Major Gilhacn, U. S. A., "of Indiana," alas! Author of a 
Manual for Volunteers, fyc. 


presence of Colonel Gilliam, who, I believe, was in former 
years a professor in the Virginia Military Institute. He was 
a gentlemanly, kind-spoken man, and asked me many ques- 
tions about the three-months' campaign. He then told me 
the latest news of the Bull Run battle, how badly we were 
whipped, &c. He informed me that news of our capture 
had been sent down the night before, and that we were to 
be examined as spies. He spoke very kindly ; said he was 
sorry that one so young should be found in my condition. 
My only reply to all he said was, " I am perfectly satis- 
fied, and don't need any sympathy." Colonel Gilham 
wanted me to tell him plainly what I was doing when I 
was captured, and what my rank was in our army. I 
answered that those who took me could answer his first 
question, and as to the latter, I had no rank. I was a 
soldier, on a scouting expedition. It was now quite dark. 
A storm was brewing in the mountains, and I was in 
hopes of being sent to some comfortable cell in the jail, 
but Colonel Gilham ordered a guard to take me up to head- 
quarters. So a tall fellow, real F. F. V., in a gray uniform, 
which had any number of yards of gold lace and buttons 
on, marched on one side, and a soft-clay-eater, from Georgia, 
on the other. I was marched up to the centre of the town 
to the hotel, up an old stairway to a large room, where sat an 
Orderly, who informed some one in the inner room, in rather 
a loud voice, " That Yankee spy is here, General." " Send 
him in : send him in. Put a strong guard at the door, also 
at the windows outside. Take off his irons, too, and let no 
one in till I call." I was taken in. At a long table, covered 
with maps and papers, sat a little man, a Malay in form 
and complexion, and a demon in countenance; he had but 
one arm, black hair, and dead eyes looking out from withered 
eyebrows. Placing a large revolver before him, he motioned 
me to sit down on the other side of the table. I did so. 
" What is your name, young man ? " I told him, and asked, 
" Whom have I the honor of speaking with ? " " You, sir, are 
in the presence of General Loring, late of the United States 
Army, but now of the Confederate Army." 

General Loring kept me some two hours, questioning me 


and trying to puzzle me ; he was particularly anxious to 
get from me some knowledge of our strength and position 
on Cheat Mountain, — at times persuading, at times threat- 
ening. He said, "Before to-morrow's sun goes down, I'll 
hang you both. Your only hope for mercy is in confessing 
all, ail you know." " General, you have the hanging power, 
I admit ; but would n't it set a bad example to our army 
to begin hanging soldiers who fall into your hands ? " 

General Loring was unkind, insulting, abusive, with noth- 
ing of the gentleman or soldier in him. Late in the night 
he ordered the guard to take me back to camp. Tired, foot- 
sore, and hungry, I reached Colonel Gilham's quarters, where 
he ordered a negro to give me some corn-bread and meat. 
After eating, I fell asleep. I was roused up by falling from 
a log on which I had been sitting. I found three men 
guarding me, and the rain pouring down. How long I 
had been asleep, I can't tell ; but a new guard came on duty, 
and brought an old tent, which they put up for me ; and 
into which they thrust me. Without straw or cover, I lay 
on the soaking ground. 

Since the days of the deluge, I do not think it has stormed 
so hard and long ; rain either fell by night or day, for the 
next six weeks ; seldom more than two or three hours of 
sunshine, till the torrents came down. Colonel Gilham's 
camp was in what had been a cornfield, and the water 
came pouring down the old furrows, and through the 
tent above. I was most terribly cold all night, the more so 
as my feet were tied with a rope, which was held by the 
guard at the door. The night was passed in as great mental 
as physical agony. In the morning, at about ten o'clock, a 
negro brought some corn-bread and fried pork, which made 
me very sick. Crowds of men stood there in the rain, look- 
ing in at me and making all sort of remarks about my per- 
sonal appearance, and conjecturing what my feelings were. 
None could talk with me, except officers who got permits from 
General Loring. A few came in, only to provoke me into 
saying something by abuse, as by reading the outrageous lies 
about Bull Run. 

The topic which all the officers and soldiers seemed in- 


clined to talk about was, when, how, and where we were 
to be executed. 

The second day at Huntersville, I was taken again before 
General Loring. This time General Robert E. Lee was in 
command ; he had arrived that day. General Loring began 
by asking the direction in which we had come, and many of 
the same questions asked before. General Lee then said, — 

" Young man, how long have you been soldiering?" 

" Three months, General." 

" Were you persuaded to go into the army, or did you 
choose it ? " 

" I went in because of the cause." 

" Have the people of Indiana confidence in Governor Mor- 
ton ? Can he get those six regiments into the field again ? " 

" General, what I say to you, I know is true. Governor 
Morton had to turn off thousands and thousands of men, 
at the first call for Volunteers. The six regiments have 
gone home, to be sure, but it is only to be better armed 
and equipped, and to spread the fire, the military patriotic 
contagion, into every heart." 

" How many men from Indiana are in the field ? " 

" As I said before, General, I was a three-months' man. 
I do not know how many are in the field now ; but if the 
men of Indiana were to see me here in irons, and then re- 
member the treatment of prisoners at Cheat River and Lau- 
rel Hill and Rich Mountain, a hundred thousand men 
would be in arms to-morrow, and Governor Morton at 
their head." 

" I shall not let you talk so," said General Loring. 

" Remember, you were not taken in battle," said General 
Lee ; " if you were, you would not be in irons." 

After a long conversation about Generals McClellan, Rose- 
crans, Morris, and Reynolds, in which he desired a minute 
personal description, he said, — 

" Young man, we will have to keep you very close, very 
safe, until we can get the evidence of those who captured 

When I was marched back to the tent, a mile off, I got a 
good view of Huntersville; and if a sheep-skin, just taken 


off, were spread on the ground, with the tail southwest, the 
head northeast, it would convey a very good idea of the 
shape of the valley in which the town is situated. The 
mountains rise on all sides, leaving but four gaps, through 
which pass the roads. It is impossible for any one to come 
into or go out of the town without going through these 
passes, or climbing the rough mountains. The town con- 
tains a few old frame buildings, one church, now used as 
a hospital, (in fact, every house almost was a hospital at this 
time,) also a brick hotel, now head-quarters, a brick court- 
house and a jail, two-stories, side by side, and not unlike. 

In the valley, and up the mountain-slopes, were camps ; 
and every day new men were coming in. Alabama had 
two or three regiments ; Tennessee had the Seventh, Four- 
teenth, and Sixteenth ; Virginia, the Forty-second and others, 
— I could not get the number ; Georgia, the Sixteenth and 
others, — number not ascertained; also the Rockbridge Cav- 
alry, and a company of Mississippians, mounted as Rangers. 
In all, my estimate of General Lee's forces amounted to over 
eleven thousand men. This knowledge, and the fact that 
General Reynolds had but a handful at Cheat Mountain, 
with his works unfinished, made me fear that Lee might 
advance immediately ; but, thank God, our capture had this 
one good result, of delaying his advance for more than six 

Both Clark and myself had refused to answer questions 
in regard to our numbers and our artillery force, except that 
we admitted having seen some ien or twelve large guns, 
and a few howitzers, but knew nothing of the number of 
infantry, beyond " some ten regiments which we saw on 
the road." 

After move than a week at Camp Gilham, the Forty-second 
Virginia Regiment was ordered to the front, and I was moved 
to the camp of the Fourteenth Tennessee, where I was happy 
to be once more in prison with Clark. We were in a tent 
by ourselves, very closely guarded, with orders not to speak 
to each other nor to any one else, except when permitted to do 
so by the officer of the guard. We found the Tennesseeans 
much kinder than the Virginians. Nothing of importance 


transpired here. The usual remarks and brag, so character- 
istic of Southerners, were gone^ through by almost every man. 
Some of the officers were gentlemen in their deportment, 
but the men were ignorant and sometimes unkind ; although 
when our feet were to be tied at night, almost every man who 
had the duty to perform, apologized, saying he was sorry, but 
it had to be done, as he was obeying orders. 

One Sunday, the chaplain of the regiment came in to 
talk with us in regard to our spiritual state. He asked us 
if we were " prepared to die." " As far as we knew, we had 
no further preparation to make." 

" Did we think we were doing right to come down South 
to lead the Yankees to murder Southern innocence?" We 
thought he was partly mistaken as to our purpose ; neverthe- 
less we thought we were doing right. " Did we know the end 
that awaited us?" "No, not exactly; we did n't know just 
how cruel and barbarous it might be, but supposed that it 
would be all right, whatever it was." In fact, we expected 
nothing good of any one, and did n't seem to object to being 
hung, either. So our chaplain left us. 

I do not remember how long we were in this regiment. 
We were poorly fed, but had good water ; no covering was 
given us, nor straw to lie upon. We were transferred to the 
safe-keeping of the Sixteenth Georgia Regiment; and a 
meaner, more cowardly, ignorant, and infernal set of heathen 
were never assembled together. My friend Clark had been 
sick for more than a week; I could see his health failing; he 
was so weak he could hardly walk ; he had fever night and 
day; — yet these villains tied him hand and foot at night, 
and caused us to lie upon the wet ground. They furnished 
us with rations unfit for dogs, and brought us water that 
the filthiest hog would shrink from wallowing in. 

One night I said to the officer of the guard, " Please, do 
not tie this man to-night; he has been too ill to rise all 
day, and the surgeon refuses to come." 

" He's a d — d traitor, and has said he could whip any two 
men in our camp ; and d — d if he shall have any favors 
of me ! " 

" I know, sir, this is false : we are not allowed to speak ; 


and I know he did not make boast or threat of any kind. 
I will ask to be doubly ironed and tied, and if Clark should 
move or do or say anything displeasing, just hang me in 
the morning." 

" No more of your d — d nonsense," said he, coming in with 
the rope, and beginning to tie Clark. 

" It is my opinion, sir, that the boast of manliness and 
generosity and noble feeling in the South is all humbug. 
There is not a man in the North so mean and cowardly as 
to do this act." 

" D you ! Perhaps you think I won't tie you, too ? " — 

for as I was not considered physically dangerous, and as they 
supposed I knew nothing of the country, they often left me 

" I don't care what yon do," said I, excitedly, losing my 
temper for the first time. " You are mean enough to do 
most anything." He did tie me, and that tightly, from head 
to foot, so that the marks were on me for two days. 

Hundreds of Confederate soldiers died at Huntersville, 
of measles and camp-diarrhoea. Clark and I suffered with the 

To add to our misery, two lousy Georgians, who had been 
found asleep on picket, were put in prison with us, where 
they .cried and whimpered like sick girls, day and night, 
for fear of being shot. Thank heaven, the Sixteenth Georgia 
were ordered on, and we once more changed camp. We 
inquired what State our new regiment was from, and were 
delighted to learn it was the Sixteenth Tennessee, Colonel 
Savage commanding, and that it was now the only regiment 
in Huntersville. We were put into the guard-tent, along with 
three or four West Virginia men, who were charged with 

Many unpleasant restrictions were removed. We could 
talk; we could stand outside the tent, -and enjoy various 
other small liberties. But this state of things did not last 
long. A mean little lawyer came around and got the sup- 
posed Union men released. Having nothing further to do, 
he must hurry up Clark's case before the authorities. 'Squire 
Skeen was prosecuting attorney for the State. 


One evening, near sundown, I was taken under guard to 
General Donelson's quarters ; for he had arrived, and was 
the commanding officer. His tent was pitched in a beautiful 
grove. The venerable old man, with his gray locks combed 
behind his ears, sat in the door, smoking his pipe. He was 
exceedingly polite. He talked with me a long time. He had 
been at Indianapolis, attending some Democratic convention. 
He knew that Indiana had a majority in favor^ of Southern 
Rights. Yes, he remembered a young man there, who was a 
remarkable man, too, — a genius; he met him at the Palmer 
House ; he knew he must be on the right side. 

" What was his name, General? Perhaps I know him." 

" I think," said the General, "his name is Ryan, — Richard 

" Yes, General, he is on the right side," said I. " I heard 
him make the hottest war-speech I ever listened to, the very 
night Fort Sumter fell." 

" How uncertain men are ! " said the General, thoughtfully. 

Mr. Skeen then questioned and cross-questioned me in 
regard to Clark. There were two men, strangers, writing down 
my answers. Several men were examined who had known 
Clark at home, for years ; and, with one voice, they said he 
was, at home, a steady, honest man, intelligent enough, but 
a strong Union man, and they had no doubt could do, and 
might have done, great harm to the Confederate cause. After 
this examination, I was taken over to the tent, accompanied 
by General Donelson's adjutant, whose name I think was 
Elliott. He was formerly connected with one of the Nash- 
ville papers ; — I am not certain in regard to the name. 

The moon 'was at its full, and had just rolled up over 
the eastern mountains, lighting up the valley with a pale 
glow, almost sufficient to read by. When I reached the 
tent, Clark asked me where I had been. I told him Skeen 
had brought some strangers there, and I had been examined 
as to my knowledge of him. 

" They are going to kill us, Fletcher, — me, at any rate." 

" Oh, no ! don't get gloomy ; they will not dare to kill us." 

While we were talking, General Donelson and staff, and 
Colonel Savage and his staff-officers, rode up to the tent and 


ordered a guard to conduct the prisoners out into the field, 
beyond the camp. We went out. A crowd of men were 
watching, and followed as far as the guard-lines permitted. 
Clark and I stood side by side. Oh, how brightly the bay- 
onets glitter in the cold moonlight ; how heavily the soldiers 
tread ; and how cold and uncheering is every sound ! 

We were halted in the middle of a lar^e field. The offi- 
cers stood, in consultation, fifty paces off. I looked up to 
the moon, that perhaps others, who had not forgotten us, 
might look at, too ; — all the rest of the scene was ours alone. 

Colonel Savage came up and said, " Prisoners, if you have 
anything to say, you must say it now, as you will never have 
another opportunity. You must hold all conversation in the 
presence of these officers." 

I turned to Clark. " Well, Clark, I am sorry to part with 
one who became a prisoner to save my life. Your life as a 
prisoner, under all your trials and tortures, has shown you 
to be ever the same brave, unwavering, honorable man. 
Whatever may be our future, I respect and love you. We 
shall meet again, but till then good-bye. If you ever have 
a chance, let some of our men know where I am ; and if 
I have a chance, I will do the same." 

Mr. Clark said : " Fletcher, I am not sorry that I gave 
myself up to save you. I feel that you are a true man. If 
you ever get home, see my wife and children ; tell her to do 
for them' as I intended to do. I am not afraid to die for 
my country. This is all I wish to say." 

" Return these men to separate quarters, Colonel," said 
General Donelson ; " and do not permit them to speak to 
each other." 

Colonel Savage did not separate us, however, but ordered 
the guard doubled ; and we promised to be quiet. Neither 
of us slept that night. Clark felt that we were going to 
be sent away to some other prison. I told him I thought 
the whole thing was foolery, to get us to say something which 
would condemn us. 

But morning came, and just as we were getting our break- 
fast, four mounted men rode up, hurried Clark oat without 
allowing one parting word, and I saw them bind him to the 


horse with chain and rope. While I stood there, my heart 
almost sank within me, but it roused up enough to heap a 
heavy and audible curse upon the proceeding, which caused 
me to be kept inside the tent and tied likewise. I now became 
cross and sick. I gave few kind words to any one who spoke 
to me. I made up my mind to escape. Twice before I might 
have done so, but for leaving Clark when he was sick ; now 
nothing kept me back but guns. I could get out, and I would. 
Next day, after making this resolve, our camp was moved up 
on higher ground on the mountain-side southwest of the town. 
Here I was so poorly fed, or so sick, that I began to think 
I would die of fever. All day long I lay at the door of 
the tent. . Across the mountain-tops, wrapt in clouds and 
Indian-summer haze, was my dream-land. Oh, how I longed 
to cross the wilderness, to give Reynolds notice of the foe 
that was threatening his front and crawling in his rear ; how 
I prayed in feverish dreams that some spiritual communica- 
tion might reveal to him his danger! I fixed in my own 
mind how Lee would draw Reynolds out for battle on the 
'pike, near Cheat River or Greenbrier Bridge, and then fall 
with his larger force on the flank and rear. So, after days 
of waiting, I slipped my irons one stormy night, and making 
my way out of the tent by lifting the curtain at the back, 
I followed a little path down through the now almost deso- 
late camp, for all but one regiment had gone on. I was just 
making my way cautiously along, between two tall pines, 
when I ran against the sentinel, who was standing there to 
keep out of the rain. He was more frightened than I, bat 
he was kind enough to keep still. He told me I was a fool 
for trying to get away ; I would die before I could get to 
our lines. I gave it up for that night, got into my tent the 
way I got out, and no one was wiser in the morning. 

Next day an old man was put in prison with me ; he was 
one of the wealthiest farmers in Greenbrier County. He was 
seventy-two years old, and was imprisoned because, at the 
time the vote was cast for testing Virginia's choice as to 
Secession or Union, he voted for the old Union. The old 
man was very cold at night and had a terrible cough. I 
wrote several notes to General Donelson, telling him that 


we had no clothing, little food, and no way to cook it. He 
answered, in the most polite manner, that he would order the 
evils remedied, but he never did. This old gentleman, Alex- 
ander Mann by name, was released a few weeks afterwards, 
upon his sons coming over and joining the Rebel Army. 
One of the young men came into the tent to see his father, 
and as a gift brought his pocket full of potatoes, which I 
think were the only vegetables I tasted in Western Vir- 

Perhaps it was two weeks before I made another attempt 
to escape. I succeeded in passing the Rebel guard-lines, and 
was well round the valley toward the place where I intended 
striking into the mountains, when I heard signal-guns firing, 
which were answered by shots all along the outposts. I 
knew no pains would be spared to retake me, for they had 
often told me that any attempt to escape would be followed 
by a speedy hanging as a spy. They knew well the damage 
I could do. 

On I went, through the tangled laurel-bushes, over broken 
ledges, up slippery steeps, down through tangled ravines, cold 
streams, and marshes, the rain pouring down in torrents, and 
only a dim ray of light through the midnight sky. At length 
I dragged my weary and chilled limbs up the mountain 
which so long had seemed to shut my view from the old 
flag waving on Cheat Mountain. Some pickets or patrols, 
who were kept out on these mountains to prevent negroes 
from running off, came down not far from me, and I think 
either saw or heard me, or perhaps their dogs scented me ; 
at last, I heard them returning. 'Tis painful to write the 
tortures of that night, toiling up the ascent, which in the 
daytime, from a distance, seemed so smooth, like a sugar loaf, 
rising from a broad base, sloping gently to a round apex, but 
which I found to be as rough and wild as any other mountain. 
Till morning I toiled like one in a horrid nightmare, trying 
to get over the Summit, away from my pursuers, but always 
coming back to the same place. As daylight dawned, I 
stretched my wearied and torn limbs in a thick jungle of 
laurels, upon the moss-covered rocks ; and there I lay all 
day. I could look southwest into the camp, across the little 


town. I could see convalescent soldiers crawling about in 
the sun, like flies after a frosty morning. But from head- 
quarters I could see mounted men dash off by every road, 
and scouts coming toward the very mountain I was on. 

Looking northeast, the scene was one unbroken wilderness 
of wood and cloud-capped mountains. I formed my plans 
for the next night's march. I had saved enough fat pork 
(which I had tied round me with my shoe-strings) to keep me 
alive, with the help of wild fruit, for four days' travelling. 

I was to descend the mountain northeast at its base. I 
was to follow up a brawling stream which had cut its bed 
through the rocks. I was to follow it for six miles ; then 
strike across another mountain to Greenbrier River, which I 
expected to follow up for some twenty miles ; until I could 
strike north to Cheat Mountain. 

When night came, dim but starlit, I made my way down 
the mountain, and keeping in the water of the little stream, 
had gone perhaps two miles when I heard " Halt, halt!" from 
the bank above, followed by two or three shots. This only in- 
creased my speed up the slippery rocks, fighting the dashing 
water. I climbed like a madman. Just as I turned under a 
shelving cliff, " Halt ! " said a strong voice, — " Halt ! " A 
sentinel fired, — so near, I could have touched the end of his 
gun ; but on I went up the rocks as if up a stairway, the foam- 
ing current dashing against me, — the sentinel close behind 
me with fixed bayonet. I turned with a spring, threw myself 
down upon him, hoping to throw him down and get his arms. 
I was received on the point of his bayonet, which penetrated 
my left hip, striking to the bone. I fell to the water. He 
grasped me by the clothing and lifted me to one side, saying, 
in an excited manner, "Fletcher, are you hurt?" "Yes." 
" Can you get up?" "No." My only thought was, What 
will become of our men at Cheat Mountain. What a fool 
was I for trying to get out of the valley that way ! Why 
did n't I start out in some other direction ? 

While I thus reflected, the other men came down and, 
making a litter, earned me back in triumph to my old 
quarters. As I passed by the tent of a sneaking second lieu- 
tenant, he stood, with a torch in his hand, to have a look at 


me. " Did you wound him ? " said he to the guard. " Yes." 
" Well, you might as well have killed him, for he knew, if 
he ever attempted to get away, he would be hung." This 
was too much for me to take from the insulting scoundrel, 
and for the second time I let fly at him, — " Hang and be 
d — d to your whole cowardly crew! " 

Next morning I was visited by Colonel Savage, who ques- 
tioned me as to why and how I made my. escape. The get- 
ting off my irons he could not understand, — thought some 
one did it for me, and wound up by saying, " If you don't 
tell the clean thing, I'll send you to the jail." 

" Colonel, I have desired to go to jail ever since I came into 
this cursed community. I have had to sleep for two months, 
almost, without clothing or straw. I have never had water 
enough to wash hands or face. I have had to eat uncooked 
rations very often, — and only the meagerest and meanest 
rations at that." 

" Take him to jail, Lieutenant. See how he likes his 
change of quarters." 

In half an hour I had an opportunity of examining one 
of those tight institutions which some men build to put other 
men in. In the centre of the two-story brick building was a 
heavy oak door. We walk into an entry or hall. At our 
right is an oak door filled with spikes, and furnished with a 
large hasp and padlock. The jailer is an old man, with long 
white hair, which he combs upward to cover the bald crown. 
He has on a dirty white shirt, ?C pair of jean breeches, and 
a pair of old shoes, cut down at the heel and out at the 
toes, which only half hide his stockingless feet; his face is 
as wrinkled as the erumply skims on boiled milk; and his 
nose and chin approach each other so closely, I venture to 
say, although he is evidently a shoemaker, he has no need of 
pincers. He is sitting at his bench when we come in, peg- 
ging an old boot; he looks up, lays down the boot, looks at 
me, wipes his nose on the back of his hand, and then per- 
forms the same motion on his leathern apron. 

"Well, you got de Yankee, did you?" 

" Yes. Where shall I put him ? " 

"Oh, I'll fix that. There is the debtors' room empty. 

JAILED. 127 

Better put him in there. The cell 's full already : got a run- 
away nig' and Moses in there. They expect the Yank' in 
there ; but he 's so sick-looking-like, I hate to." 

" Never mind," said the Lieutenant ; * " that's just the kind 
he likes. Them Abolitionists don't mind sleeping with nig- 
gers ; and ' Mose ' is as good as he." 

The old jailer took clown two keys from a nail in the 
wall, unlocked the padlock, threw back the oak door, and 
then a door, made of heavy iron cross-bars, presented itself. 
I tried to see into the cell, while he fumbled away at the 
lock, but it was too dark within. " I hardly ever unlock this 
door, and it 's mighty rusty." Soon the door swung back, 
shrieking on its rusty hinges. Putting irons on was hard, 
but I shall never forget my repugnance at passing into that 
cell, and hearing the iron door slam, and the lock grind. 
And' on this disgusting period it is painful to dwell. Hun- 
dreds came to look through at me, but I kept myself hid as 
much as possible. 

By kindness I soon won the confidence of the negro 
"Jim," and the poor idiot "Mose." 

Jim w T aited on me : he brushed my clothes with an old 
broom, and tried to black my rusty old shoes by using soot 
from the flue. When the jailer thrust the old wooden tray 
under the trap-door, Jim set it before me, and he made Mose 
wait till I had eaten. Mose was a poor idiot boy, nineteen 
years old, who had been in this filthy place for months. 

The cell was about fourteen feet long and twelve feet wide ; 
two small double-grated windows let in the little light we en- 
joyed by day ; but early in the evening the heavy shutters 
were closed, and all was dark as pitch. At this time, I felt 
much like the fish that jumped from the frying-pan into the 
fire, for when I was in the tent, although I suffered from cold 
and rain, I could not complain of being stinted in the article 
of pure air ; but I now suffered for want of it. It was my 
custom to lie on the floor with my face as close to the very 
small crack under the trap-door as possible. 

* This Lieutenant was shortly afterward captured by our men. He told 
them that I was well treated and on parole in Huntersville, for which infor- 
mation Lieutenant Delzell and all the boys in Bracken's Cavalry paid him 
every kind attention. 


In the morning, the guard came and opened the shutters, 
and life was tolerable till evening. 

Many citizens — men, women, and children — came to see 
me. On Sunday I was more than crowded with visitors, who 
stood at the iron door, gaping like so many moon-struck 
toads. Very seldom would I talk with them ; and I asked 
the guard, who were detailed from the militia, not to allow 
so many fools in the hall. Jim used to take his stand at 
the door and do all the talking, as the keeper of wild animals 
stands by their cage and explains where they were caught, 
how trained, and their habits. So Jim told about the Yankee, 
often spreading on to the story, which he manufactured, 
some of the most wonderful traits that a man ever had. 

Jim was anxious to get out : so was I ; and we began to 
work on the east window. When people came about, Jim 
talked to them, and whistled and sung, to deaden the noise 
of cutting and sawing with my knife, which I was using as 
cold : chisel and file on a bar of iron. We worked some 
every day, but the knife was worn out before the bar was 
half" off. 

Part of my time I spent in teaching Jim and Moses their 
letters, by drawing them on the floor with bits of charcoal. 
Jim learned very quickly, but Moses made no progress. The 
jailer's daughter let me have a few books. " Paul and Vir- 
ginia," " Elizabeth ; or the Exiles of Siberia," " John Wes- 
ley's Sermons," "A History of Marion and his Men," etc., 
etc., were all eagerly devoured, for they were more than com- 
panions to me now. Every book was a friend. 

During all this time I was growing thinner and weaker 
every day. I could not sleep at night, for the foul air was 
poison to me. My head ached and my heart burned. In 
one of these sad midnight hours, dark to me but bright 
moonlight outside, I heard the guard, who were off duty, 
sing out, in fall, rich strains, an old Methodist tune which I 
had heard years ago at camp-meeting, commencing with — 

" There is a place where my hopes are stayed ; 
My heart and my treasure are there." 

With this song the flood-gates of pent-up feeling burst, and 


for the first time tears washed down my fevered cheeks. 
Thoughts of bine and friends occupied the rest of the night. 

At length, my days at Huntersville came to an end. One 
Sunday afternoon I heard that a big battle was going on at 
Cheat Mountain, and that thousands of Yankees had been 
killed and captured the day before. The prisoners were to 
arrive at Huntersville that afternoon. Crowds of people 
occupied the court-house yard and the streets, waiting to see 
the " Yanks." I stood with my feet on the back of a chair, 
and my hands holding to the iron bar above me, peering out, 
trembling with excitement. Just at sunset I could see men 
coming through the mountain-pass, and, as they came nearer, 
I beheld the blue uniforms of the Union soldiers. On they 
came, and were drawn up in line, about two hundred yards 
from the jail. Would they be sent on without my having 
a chance to speak with them, to find the truth ? Would I 
be sent on with them ? 

I walked back and forth. I pounded on the door till the 
jailer came. 

" Who is the officer in command of this town, this jail? 
What am I left here for ? " 

" I don't know anything about it. I was told to keep you 
till called for." 

" I wish you would send the commandant of this post 
this note," — and I handed him a scrap upon which I had 
asked to see the commandant. 

In an hour a captain, in the Confederate service, who had 
once been in the regular army as lieutenant, came in, asked 
my name, rank, and regiment, and some other questions ; 
then he ordered me to be put in a better place, the debtors' 
room, and said I should be sent on to Richmond the next 
morning, with the other prisoners. I did not sleep that night. 
I wanted to move — anywhere, anywhere, so that I was not 
lying still. I prayed that wherever Clark was, I might be 
sent, for since the day he was sent off, I had had that one de- 
sire above all others, to know where he was and be with him. 

Next morning I was taken out to the table, breakfasted 
with the jailer's family, and then was returned to my quar- 
ters. How long that day seemed. At four p. m., a guard 


came. The door was thrown open. I walked across the 
hall, and shook hands with Jim and Moses. Both, with tears 
in their eyes, wished me good luck, and I was off. Oh, how 
soft and balmy seemed the air; how quiet and free every- 
thing seemed ! I was surprised to find that I could hardly 
move my limbs : a walk of two hundred yards seemed like 
as many miles. I said nothing, for I was bound to leave 
Huntersville. We came to an orchard, where the Yankees 
were drawn up in line. They were ready to march. I 
dragged myself along as fast as possible. I looked each 
man in the face, in hopes to get one glance of recognition. 
One or two of the Sixth Ohio boys I recognized, but they 
didn't know me. Every one of them looked at me with 
wondering eyes. The end of the column was reached, where 
I was to march, when a young man stepped up to me, looking 
me in the face. " My God," said he, " is this Dr. Fletcher? " 

" Yes," said I : "it is what remains of him." 

Captain Bense came up ; and Corporal Frank Kistler, of 
the Thirteenth Indiana, who had recognized me, introduced 
me, saying " that he had heard of me before." 

" Fall in ! Fall in ! " shouted the Rebel lieutenant, who 
had us in charge. " Forward, march ! " and away we went, 
Frank Kistler by my side, — who told me that only a picket 
party had been captured, and that Reynolds would "lam 
the Rebs like h — 1." Then he told me the late news, but in 
few words, for no talking was allowed. In another hour, 
Huntersville was at our backs, and we were plodding along 
through the mountain-roads, wading deep, cold streams, and 
climbing up steep hills. My feet were a mass of blisters, 
and I was so weary that I would have given up ; but 1 
knew I would be sent back. I told Kistler my condition, 
and he put me on his shoulders, carrying me with as much 
ease as if I were only his knapsack. That night we camped 
in a swamp, without blankets ourselves ; but Kistler soon 
captured one for me. A little raw meat was served next 
morning, and we were off, — I so sore, that only by bring- 
ing up the very utmost of my powers I travelled on. 

That day at about two p. m. I could stand it no longer, 
for our road was up, up, always up the mountain. I threw 


myself down by the road, telling the lieutenant they might 
leave me, parole me, or shoot me, I had no choice, but to 
walk one step further I would not. He told one of the guard 
to stay with me till a government wagon came up, and then 
bring me on to the Warm Springs, where he would camp till 
next day. So all marched on. My guard was an ignorant 
Tennessecan ; and after talking to me a little, I pretended to 
sleep. He was lying near me, a little off from the road, in 
the woods. I soon noticed him sleeping, even snoring. I 
took his gun in my hand and thought how easy I might 
put an end to him. " Murder," responded my conscience, "to 
kill a sleeping, ignorant man." I knew that for me to go 
away would be folly : I could not walk the fourth of a mile. 
In an hour, the wagons came up, and I was put in with three 
wounded Rebels. At dark we came to the Warm Springs, 
and found our boys in camp by the side of a brick church. 
Flour had been given them, but nothing to cook it with. 
So we mixed it up with water into thick paste, wrapped it on 
sticks, and held it over the embers till cooked. 

Next morning, we were paraded by the drunken lieuten- 
ant before the large hotel, for the criticism of the guests. 
After going through this disagreeable inspection, we were 
marched over the Warm Spring Mountain, to Bath Alum 
Springs, where we were once more paraded, for the amusement 
of the fashionable first families. Resuming our march, we 
came to within five miles of Millsborough Station, which 
was our destination ; but as it Was climbing mountains all 
the time, I gave out, once more refusing to walk ; so a guard 
was left with me, with orders, after I rested, to walk slowly 
on, and if we got to Millsborough after the train had gone, 
to put me in the jail and leave me. This was sad, for I 
wanted to go on with Captain Bense, Lieutenant Shafer, 
Lieutenant Gilman, and Kistler, with whom I had formed 
such pleasant acquaintance, and from whom I had received 
so much kindness. While we sat by the way, a spring- 
wagon drove by, with two Rebel officers sitting on the front 
seat. We asked to ride. They said they were taking the 
remains of Colonel Washington to Millsborough, and could 
not make time for the train if they took us in. 


As they passed by, a negro, driving three galled and broken- 
down mules, came up. 

" Where are you driving those mules, boy?" 

" Gwine to pastor 'em at Millsborough, massa." 

" I must ride one of them, then," said I. 

" I got no 'jections, massa. Mighty 'fraid dat animal can't 
hold you up, though." 

The guard put me on the bare-backed and bridleless mule, 
and walked behind, urging him up with his bayonet occa- 
sionally. We were soon up with our men, who all laughed 
and cheered as I passed by them. I heard Captain Bense 
say, " It 's hard to tell who looks the worse for wear, the man 
or the mule." 

At four p. m. we arrived at Millsborough, and in half an 
hour, sixteen of us were put into a box-car, in most uncom- 
fortable quarters, and at ten p. m. we were in the city of 
Staunton, where we were marched to an old depot, into which 
straw had been put for our accommodation. I had no sooner 
touched the straw than I was sleeping soundly; but I was soon 
awakened by the noise of a drunken Rebel officer, who was 
swearing at a great rate, and waking up the prisoners, to ask 
them where they were from, and what they came down here 
for. This first-family man flourished a huge knife, and told 
how many men he could kill with it. At length he disturbed 
the wrong man, when he got hold of a red-haired sergeant 
of the Sixth Ohio Regiment, who drew himself up in Heenan 
style and told the F. F. V. in strong language, that, if he did 
not let him go to sleep, he would kill him. The F. F. V. 
did not use his knife, but swore vengeance next morning. 
But when we marched out at daylight, I suppose this Confed- 
erate officer was sleeping off his drunk ; and we marched to 
the depot, and were off to Richmond, where we arrived at six 
p. m. of, I think, the third day of October. We were marched 
down Main Street amidst the hooting of soldiers and the 
shouts of ragged little boys. " D — d Yankee ! " was all the 
sound we could hear. At the lower end of Main Street is 
situated several tobacco-factories. We were drawn up in 
line in front of the officers' quarters, which at that time was 
in Ligon & Co.,s factory. Here the roll was called, and a 


drunken lieutenant put down the names, rank, when and 
where captured, charges, &c. 

My name was called last. I was just going to give my 
regiment, when the lieutenant who had come with us said, 
" That man was captured several months ago as a spy, and 
has been in jail at Huntersville." 

I was heart-sick, for I thought I was free from that charge. 
We stood there in the street till it was quite dark, when 
we were marched into a factory opposite. The guards threw 
up their guns, and we walked in amid the noise and bustle 
of a soldier-prison. The rooms were very large, and the gas 
burning brightly. Here were men from every State, in all 
sorts of uniforms, laughing, singing, playing cards, and seem- 
ing very happy. We soon scattered through the building. 
Each new-comer was the centre of some questioning crowd. 
Before we had been in half an hour, I heard some two shots 
fired at the new prisoners who had foolishly gone near a 
third-story window. In this' way they told us several had 
been killed within two weeks. 

Next morning the sergeant came to call the roll, and 
ordered all new prisoners to stand on the east side of the 
room. He then commenced to call our names. But he 
found that his roll, written by the drunken lieutenant, was not 
readable, and he called up one of his sergeants to copy it for 
him on a blank, which he had with him. When he came 
to my name, Captain Bense, who read the names off, instead 
of reading my name as " captured in July as a spy," read, 
"captured in September, at Elk Water; belonging to the 
Sixth Regiment Indiana Volunteers." The sergeant now 
called the roll ; then said, " All commissioned officers step two 
paces to the front." Captain Bense, Lieutenant Gilman, and 
Lieutenant Shafer went out. Bense looked back, seeing me, 
and said, " There is Dr. Fletcher, Assistant Surgeon of the 
Sixth Regiment." I took the hint, and was marched off with 
them to the officers' quarters. 

We found some sixty Federal officers just at breakfast. 

Good bread, beefsteak, and coffee seemed to abound; and I 

for one did justice to these rarities ; and the result was that 

in half an hour I was deadly sick. I found no one to talk 



to. All our officers shunned me, for I was lean, long-haired, 
ragged, and dirty. They were fat, slick, and in their new 
uniforms, which they had worn on the Bull-Run field. 

But in time I became well acquainted with all the officers, 
received money from home, and spent as agreeable times as 
a prisoner could be expected to. I used every endeavor to 
learn if Clark was in Richmond ; but he was not there. I 
heard that a man of that description had been sent to New 




Colonel: Thomas T. Crittenden. 

Lieut.-Colonel : Hiram Prather. 

Major: Johx Gerber. 

Quartermaster : Josiah H. Andrews. 

Surgeons: Charles Schuessler ; John W.Davis. 

T. T. Crittenden, A. 
Philem. P. Baldwin, A. 
Augustus H. Abbett, B. 
Charles Cliilds, C. 
Thorn. J. Harrison, D. 
Jerern. C. Sullivan, E. 
John Gerber, E. 
Rufus W. Gale, E. 
Will. C. Moreau, F. 
Hagaman Tripp, G. 
Fielder A. Jones, H. 
John D. Evans, /. 
Alois O. Bachman, K. 

First Lieutenants. 
P. P. Baldwin, A. 
Samuel Russell, A. 
Allen W. Prather, B. 
Rich. W. Meredith, C. 
Thomas Herring, D. 
John Gerber, E. 
R. W. Gale, E. 
John T. Hendricks, E. 
Robert Allison, F. 
Josiah H. Andrews, G. 
Stephen Story, H. 
John F. Longley, / 
George W. Wiley, K. 

Second Lieutenants. 
S. Russell, A. 
Isaac Stephens, A. 
William C. Wheeler, B. 
Alanson Solomon, C. 
William R. Phillips, D. 
R. W. Gale, E. 
J. T. Hendricks, E. 
William Hamilton, E. 
John Cole, F. 
George W. Kendrick, G. 
Calvin B. Trumbo, H. 
George A. Wainwright, /, 
William T. Days, A'. 





Colonel: Ebenezer Dumont. 

Lieut-Colonel: Benjamin J. Spooner. 

Major : Samuel P. Oyler. 

Adjutant: James Gavin. 

Quartermaster: David E. Sparks. 

Surgeons : George W. New ; William Gillespie. 

James Burgess, A. 
James Morgan, B. 
John M. Blair, C. 
B. J. Spooner, D. 
John F. Cheek, D. 
John H. Ferry, E. 
J. V. Berausdaffer, F. 
Nathan Lord, Jr., G. 
S. P. Oyler, H. 
Joseph P. Gill, II. 
John W. Rabb, L 
Jefferson K. Scott, K. 

First Lieutenants. 
Peter S. Kennedy, A. 
Ira G. Grover, B. 
John Flynn, C. 
D. E. Sparks, D. 
Jesse Armstrong, D. 
Henry Waller, E. 
James Gavin, F. 
Benjamin C. Shaw, F. 
L. K. Stevens, G. 
William B. Ellis, II. 
Solomon Waterman, /. 
Charles Day, K. 

Second Lieutenants. 
Joseph S. Miller, A. 
Benjamin Ricketts, B. 
John C. Maze, C. 
Jesse Armstrong, D. 
Eli Matlock, D. 
Alexander B. Pattison, E. 
B. C. Shaw, F. 
Josephus L. Tucker, F. 
William Francis, G. 
W. B. McLaughlin, H. 
David Lostutter, /. 
Theodore Orner, K. 





Colonel: William P. Benton. 

Lieut.-Colonel : Silas Colgrove. 

Major: David Shunk. 

Adjutants : A. Irwin Harrison ; Charles O. Howard. 

Quartermaster : John T. Robinson. 

Surgeons: James Ford; George W. Edgerle. 

Jacob Widanian, A. 
D. Shunk, B. 
Oliver H. P. Carey, B. 
S. Colgrove, C. 
Thomas J. Lee, C. 
Thomas J. Brady, D. 
H. T. Vandevender, E. 
Frederick Tykle, F. 
Reuben A. Riley, G. 
C. O. Howard, H. 
Alex. J. Kenney, H. 
W. P. Benton, /. 
Maberry M. Lacy, /. 
Charles S. Parrish, K. 

First Lieutenants. 
Francis C. Swiggett, A. 
O. H. P. Carey, B. 
John Reuss, B. 
E. M. Ives, C. 
G. W. Edgerle, D. 
Joseph Kirk, D. 
John T. Robinson, E. 
James Fergus, E. 
Henry Ray, F. 
Henry C. Rariden, G. 
William R. Walls, G. 
A. J. Kenney, H. 
M. M. Lacy, /. 
A. I. Harrison, /. 
Isaac Thomas, 1. 
Jos. M. Thompson, K. 

Second Lieutenants. 
George Adams, A. 
John Reuss, B. 
Jacob M. Wells, B. 
Allen O. Neff, C. 
William Fisher, D. 
Nathan Branson, D. 
James Fergus, E. 
L. D. M'Callister, E. 
Joseph W. Connel, F. 
George W. H. Riley, G. 
Robert A. Douglass, H. 
Isaac Thomas, 1. 
James Conner, I. 
Franklin Daily, K. 





Colonel: Robert H. Milroy. 

Lieut. - Col o nel : David M. Dunn. 

Major : Don J. Woodward. 

Adjutant: Henry Loring. 

Quartermaster: Carter L. Vigus. 

Surgeons : Daniel Meeker ; Mason G. Sherman. 

Jehu C. Hannum, A. 
William H. Blake, B. 
Theodore F. Mann, C. 
Thomas G. Dunn, D. 
William P. Segur, E. 
D. J. Woodward, F. 
Thomas J. Patton, F. 
R. H. Milroy, G. 
Gideon C. Moody, G. 

First Lieutenants. 
John H. Gould, A. 
Asahel K. Bush, B. 
C. H. Kirkendall, C. 
Clinton Weimer, D. 

Second Lieutenants. 
W. A. Pigman, ^4. 
Alison Bailey, B. 
James D. Braden, C. 
C. L. Vigus, D. 

Henry A. Whitman, E. Orlando W. Miles, D. 

T. J. Patton, F. 
George W. Carter, F. 
G. C. Moody, G. 
Edw. P. Hammond, G. 

Robert A. Cameron, H. Isaac C. B. Suman, H. 
Andrew Anderson, /. Henry Loring, I. 
Dudley H. Chase, K. Henry J. Blowney, /. 
Frank P. Morrison, K. 

William S. Story, E. 
G. W. Carter, F. 
Joseph Richards, F. 
E. P. Hammond, G. 
Albert J. Guthridge, G. 
G. A. Pierce, H. 
H. J. Blowney, 1. 
Alexander Hamilton, K. 





Colonels: Joseph J. Reynolds; Mahlon D. Manson. 

Lieut. -Colonel: James R. M. Bryant. 

Majors : M. D. Manson ; William C. Wilson. 

Adjutants : Joseph C. Suit ; Reuben C. Kise. 

Quartermaster : Zebulon M. P. Hand. 

Surgeons : Thomas P. McCeea ; William H. Myers. 

Chris Miller, A. 
J. R. M. Bryant, B. 
Dickson Fleming, B. 
John W. Blake, C. 
Abram O. Miller, C. 
W. C. Wilson, D. 
S. McKee Wilson, D. 
William Taylor, E. 
Ezra Olds, F. 
M. D. Manson, G. 
James H. Watson, G. 
William Conklin, H. 
William C. Kise, 1. 
Charles C. Smith, K. 
William H. Morgan, K. 

First Lieutenants. 
John E. Naylor, A. 
D. Fleming, B. 
Levin T. Miller, B. 
J. C. Suit, C. 
Samuel W. Shortle, C. 

Second Lieutenants. 
Alvin Gay, A. 
L. T. Miller, B. 
John F. Compton, B. 
S. W. Shortle, C. 
James W. Blake, C. 

Alexander Hogeland, D. John Brower, D. 
John A. Stein, E. Henry C. Tinney, E. 

Demetrius Parsley, F. Isaac W. Sanders, F. 
J. H. Watson, G. J. H. Vanarsdall, G. 

James H. Vanarsdall, G. Ebenezer H. Morgan, G. 
E. R. Bladen, H. David N. Steele, H. 

Jehu W. Perkins, /. R. C. Kise, 1. 

R. T. Fahnestock, K. Z. M. P. Hand, K. 

Benjamin F. Beitzell, K. 





Colonel: Lewis Wallace. 

Lieut.- Colonel: George F. McGrxxis. 

Majors : Charles O. Wood ; William J. H. Robixsox. 

Adjutant : Daxif.l Macatjley. 

Quartermaster: Hexry L. Ryce. 

Surgeons: Thomas W. Fry; Johx C. Thompson. 

Robert S. Foster, A. 
George Butler, A. 
John Falmestock, B. 
Charles W. Lyman, B. 
C. O. Wood, C. 
Jesse E. Hamill, C. 
Jabez Smith, D. 
DeWitt C. Rugg, E. 
Edward T. Wallace, F. 
Henry M. Carr, G. 
W. J. H. Robinson, H. 
Frederick Knefler, H. 
Lew. Wallace, /. 
Isaac C. Elston, Jr., i". 
G. F. McGinnis, K. 
William W. Darnall, K. 

First Lieutenants. 
George Butler, A. 
Joseph H. Livsey, A. 
Orin S. Falmestock, B. 
Daniel B. Culley, B. 
John E. Moore, C. 
Neville L. Brown, D. 
Dan. Macauley, E. 
Henry Tindall, E. 
John Stevenson, F. 
Harvey B. Wilson, G. 
F. Knefler, H. 
Thorn. W. Fry, Jr., H. 
Abram C. Wilson, J. 
Wm. W. Darnall, K. 
J. A. McLaughlin, K. 

Second Lieutenants. 
J. H. Livsey, A. 
David B. Hay, A. 
D. B. Culley, B. 
James F. Troth, B. 
Francis G. Scott, C. 
Thomas F. Wells, D. 
Henry Tindall, E. 
Nicholas R. Ruckle, E. 
Isaac M. Rumsey, F. 
John W. Ramsay, F. 
John F. Caven, G. 
Wallace Foster, H. 
I. C. Elston, Jr., 1. 
John AY. Ross, /. 
William Dawson, K. 




ONE YEAR, FK031 MAY 15, 1861. 

Colonels: John M. Wallace; William H. Link. 

Lieut.-Colonels : W. H. Link ; George Humphrey. 

Majors: G. Humphrey; Henry Hubler. 

Adjutants: John W. Moore; Oscar N. Hinkle ; Cyrus J. McCoit. 

Quartermaster: Milton R. Dixon. 

Surgeons : William H. Lomax ; Isaac Casselberry ; John H. Cooe ; 

Noble P. Howard. 
Chaplain : Josiah P. Watson. 

Captains. First Lieutenants. 

Thomas G. Morrison, A. J. W. Moore, A. 
Thomas R. Noel, B. John A. M. Cox, A. 

James Baehman, C. Sol. D. Kempton, B. 

William O'Brien, D. Michael Kirchner, C. 

C. J. McCole, D. 

H. Hubler, E. 
Reuben Williams, E. 
G. Humphrey, F. 
George Nelson, F. 
W. H. Link, G. 
Arthur F. Reed, G. 
Thomas R. Doan, H. 

Second Lieutenants. 

J. A. M. Cox, A. 

David M. Jordan, A. 

Daniel Stockwell, B. 

James Huston, B. 

James W. Wallace, C. 
Patrick A. Gallagher, E. George W. Collins, C. 
H. B. DuBarry, F. John T. Floyd, D. 

O. N. Hinkle, F. 
William W. Angell, G. 
George W. Steele, H. 
A. Buchanan, 1. 

Howell D. Thompson, I. William Wood, I. 
Alexander Buchanan, 1. Benjamin S. Ayers, K. 
Joseph F. Draper, K. 

R. Williams, E. 
Andrew S. Millice, E. 
G. Nelson, F. 
John M. Godown, F. 
A. F. Reed, G. 
Elbert D. Baldwin, G. 
William E. Wallace, H. 
William Carroll, H. 
William Wood, /. 
Alfred B. Taylor, /. 
John M. Dixon, K. 

1L ^0*1. C 

Lleut.-Ool. S. MERRILL, 70th Ind. C. W. MOORES. 






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